I'll Carry You Home
by pierceslopezs
Summary: When McKinley's resident delinquent, Santana Lopez, decides to take an interest in the head cheerleader, Brittany finds that her Senior Year at McKinley isn't going to run quite as smoothly as she'd hoped. Punk!Santana/Head Cheerleader!Brittany, AU/
1. Chapter 1

It didn't begin differently to any other, that day. They sat slumped on the cool metal of the bleachers, arms folded and bony elbows jutting out, watching another tedious performance begin as an array of blinding lights sliced through the gym.

"Dream on, Lopez." Santana averted her gaze from the performance that unfolded in the gym and instead turned her attention to the shaven haired boy sat beside her.

"What?"

"You know who that is, don't you?" He said flatly, eyes fluttering back to the group of uniformed cheerleaders in the centre of the gym.

"Should I?"

"Well, I'll tell you." Puck leant further in and narrowed his eyes, pointing out a particular cheerleader with his index finger and his thumb. "That's Brittany Pierce."

"She's good." Santana remarked, her eyes never leaving the graceful movements of the dancer.

"Forget it. You'd have more luck with Berry." Puck gestured to the tiny girl that sat a few seats away from them, a pair of long arms wrapped around her frame.

"Is there a particular reason that I can't have Pierce?"

"Look at her, for a starter." Puck said, once again pointing her out from the crowd. Santana examined the dancer's entire body, from the scarlet skirt that stopped just below her thighs to the pristine white trainers on her feet. She took in the red polyester that clung to every curve and groove of her body, dipping in and out of every angle that belonged to her. She noted the incredible speed of which the dancer leapt into the air with, and the effortless elegance she landed with upon return.

"Now, take a look at yourself." Santana arched a fine eyebrow at him. She clicked the piercing that sat on her tongue against the roof of her mouth and leant her back against the bleacher bench. She tangled a hand into her hair before pushing it away from her forehead and nudging Puck with a sharp elbow so that he was bolted upright by the motion.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"What do you 'now, take a look at yourself'?" She demanded.

"I just meant that you two aren't entirely alike, are you?"

"I could be a cheerleader. If I wanted." Puck let out a snort before giving her a patronising pat on the shoulder.

"You? A cheerleader?" He scoffed.

"Why not?"

"I didn't think you were the type to wear a uniform."

"I'm not." She protested.

"And are you they type to be told what to do?"

"No."

"And how do you possibly expect to become a cheerleader?" Puck laughed. "I'm not sure you've thought this one through, Santana."

"I was just suggesting. I could be one of them if I wanted to."

"Why the fuck would you want to?" Santana's eyes flickered to find the blonde dancer that sat perched on the shoulders of a waif thin boy, struggling to balance her on his weak frame.

"No reason." She said, nonchalantly.

"I've already told you, Lopez. Forget it! She's the head cheerleader. And you're the-" Puck cut himself short, searching for the words to describe her without receiving another sharp jab.

"Go on." She urged, daring him to continue.

"The head delinquent." He eventually settled for, a smile breaking onto his lips in satisfaction.

"That'll do." She reached her hand out and flicked her fingers through the ends of his mohawk, examining the dark tufts in her palm. "You should really get rid of this thing, you know?"

"One day." As they spoke, the performance on the floor came to an end and the gym soon became a sea of bodies all floating towards the exit. They stood too and followed the crowd, making their way through the bustling students around them.

"And this. You should get rid of this, too." Santana reached forward and tugged the Star of David necklace from beneath the collar of Puck's shirt, pulling it out before wrapping it around her fingers.

"Why?"

"You're not even religious, Noah."

"I can be. When I want to."

"And do you want to?" He smirked before answering.

"What do you think?" In their movements, they'd found themselves surrounded by a swarm of exhausted Cheerios that swam around them in an attempt to leave the gym.

Santana felt the body collide with hers before she saw it.

She stumbled backwards and grabbed onto the arm of a passing boy to steady herself, wobbling back onto her feet.

"Sorry!" She looked back to find misty, cyan eyes fixed on her own. They were accompanied with pink lips that were mouthing apologies as a hand came forwards to steady her.

"I'm fine." She snapped, shoving the arm away from her. Gaining her balance, Santana finally managed to study the cobalt orbs in front of her. She caught a glimpse of blonde hair as loose, damp strands twisted onto the girl's forehead.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." She confirmed. "You're Pierce, aren't you?" Those eyes met Santana's again, observing them for longer than necessary.

"Yes. And you're Lopez." To Santana's surprise, Brittany's lips curled up into a smile.

"You know my name."

"I've heard you getting kicked out of enough classes to know that, Santana."

"Are we on first name basis now, Pierce?" Brittany's smile faded. She wasn't sure why she was speaking to Santana Lopez, of all people, or why her throat was rapidly drying up. Nor was she sure of the humiliation bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Still, the hiss in Santana's tone was enough for Brittany's cheeks to redden and her palms to dampen.

"Isn't there somewhere for you to be?"

"I'd be delighted you to suggest somewhere else I could be."

"Shoving kids into lockers somewhere, maybe?" Brittany was still unaware as to why the words were slipping out of her mouth without her permission.

"I didn't do it to you, did I?" Brittany chewed on the corner of her lip while Santana smirked as the realisation sunk in. "Oh, I did! I did! Well, don't take it personally, Pierce. You're just one of them, after all."

"One of them?" Brittany's teeth dug into her tongue while Santana spoke.

"Cheerleaders. The 'h_olier than thou_' virginal squad, of course."

"I-I'm not a virgin." Brittany hissed after an initial stammer. Santana was infuriating her. She was humiliating her and creeping under her skin, forcing embarrassment to the slip to the surface and expose itself through her physical attributes. Through crimson cheeks and a spluttering voice.

"I don't doubt it for a second."

"Do you want something, Lopez?" Her voice was harsher this time. She was all but prepared to spew venom in reply to Santana.

"Probably." She murmured.

"Well?"

"I don't quite recall. I don't recall a lot of things these days, actually, you know?"

"Fascinating."

"I'd watch your tongue if I were you, Pierce." Santana warned suddenly. Without giving her the satisfaction of a reply, Brittany focused her vision and held her tongue between her teeth, just as Santana had told her to do.

"Actually, I think I remember what it was I wanted."

"And that is?"

"A date." Brittany's eyes found hers. "With you."

"A date? You expect me to go on a date with you?"

"That's the general idea of the concept, yes."

"And why would I want to do that?" Brittany asked before continuing. "Actually, let me clarify. Why would I, head of the Cheerios and upstanding member of the Glee club, want to go on a date with someone like you?"

"Someone like me?" Sanatan scoffed.

"Would you like me to be clearer on that? A Lima loser. That's all you are and that's all you're _ever _going to be."

"I'll take that as a no, then." Santana answered, a smirk still playing on her lips.

"Correct!"

"You don't think this is it, do you?" Brittany raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't it?" Santana let out a harsh laugh before she pushed past a bewildered Brittany with one, swift movement.

"You'll see, Pierce."

**Thoughts?**


	2. Chapter 2

**First of all, I'm sorry that this chapter is so late in being posted. I actually wrote it over three weeks ago, but since I uploaded the last chapter, fanfiction has been down for me. I can guarantee that updates won't take this long in the future! And, as this story is AU, neither Brittany or Santana will be written in canon, so Brittany's canon character is a little different to my version of her in this story. Anyway, I'm sorry for the belated update and enjoy Chapter 2!**

* * *

If there was one thing that Santana Lopez possessed, it was the ability to bring complete disruption into Brittany's life.

"Good morning." Brittany slammed her locker door shut with a thud and looked up to find Santana leaning against the locker next to hers. She let out an exasperated sigh and gave a roll of the eyes by way of an answer. "I see you're in an excellent mood this fine morning." Santana announced, arms folded as she watched Brittany drop her books into her bag.

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Not even a friendly 'hello'?"

"Since when has anything you say ever been friendly?" Brittany spat, swinging her bag over her shoulder and hurrying her steps along the hallway.

"Is that the closest I'm going to get to a greeting?" Santana asked, her pace matching Brittany's own.

"I'm sorry, were you expecting more?"

"Were you?" Brittany felt her cheeks colour unwillingly. A shade of scarlet decorated her skin at Santana's words.

"Is there something you want?"

"I told you what I wanted yesterday." Santana answered simply.

"Hasn't anything changed since then?"

"Unfortunately not." Santana feigned a frown as she walked beside Brittany, their footsteps keeping time with one another's. "Do your friends mind that we're walking together?"

"W-why would they?" Brittany suddenly felt inexplicably nervous at her words.

"Aren't you supposed to be the head cheerleader? And what am I supposed to be?"

"A Lima loser?"

"Of course. We have our places now, don't we?"

"I have my place, Lopez. And you have yours."

"I beg to differ." Santana whispered.

"You know enough, don't you? For a delinquent, I mean." Brittany replied quickly.

"I never claimed I was an idiot."

"You didn't have to. I think vandalising school grounds and helping throw kids into dumpsters kind of does it for you, don't you?"

"Do you think you'd do any differently if you were in my position, Pierce?" Santana's snarl was unintentional. But Brittany's words were blistering her skin and tightening her jaw.

"I wouldn't do that same as you, I know that much." At some point, they had stopped walking in step together and come to a standstill in the hallway.

"Are you going to make this difficult, Pierce?" Brittany swallowed while the raven haired girl's hand splayed onto the locker they stood beside in the hallway.

"I just want to get to class."

"Why?" Santana asked, warm breath cascading over Brittany's jaw as she leaned in to speak.

"Just get out of my way, please." She sighed, shoving Santana's arm out of her path roughly and walking with her back turned to her.

"So you _are_ going to make this difficult!" Brittany span on her heel, cheeks reddening under Santana's gaze, and stormed towards her with a scowl firmly plastered on her face.

"Listen to me, Lopez. I don't want _anything _to do with a Lima loser like you. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly." Santana said, though her lips were curling up into a satisfied grin. With this, Brittany turned her back and began to walk away with intention until Santana's voice started to drift into her ears again, flooding her head and drowning her thoughts.

"So, is that a yes?"

* * *

Brittany slid into the empty seat beside Quinn with an irritated sigh. It wasn't even second period and Lopez was already causing fury to boil beneath her skin.

"Brittany? Are you alright?"

"Fine, Quinn." She answered abruptly.

"Is there something wrong?" Quinn tried, hand perched on Brittany's shoulder.

"Nothing, I'm just tired." She lied.

"You can tell me, you know?"

"It's nothing, Quinn!" Her voice raised significantly an octave. She was careful to stop herself before she was snapping and snarling without warning.

"Okay." Quinn drew a deep, heavy breath before she opened her mouth to speak again. "Why were you with Santana this morning?" At the mention of her name, Brittany's chest convulsed and her stomach twisted itself into tight, countless knots. Even the name was enough to infuriate her.

"Something about her wanting to join the Cheerios." The words came out slowly and smoothly. Even she was surprised by the quality of the lie that had left her lips.

"Her? On the Cheerios?" Quinn gave out a laugh. "When has _she _ever been on a team for anything? She doesn't exactly scream effort, does she?"

"I guess not." Brittany mumbled, burying her face in the textbook that sat on their desk to avoid the rouge in her cheeks at the mention of Santana.

"You're not considering letting her on the team, are you?"

"No!" Brittany protested furiously.

"Because you know she can't join us, don't you?" Quinn flicked her wrist into the air as if to wave an invisible Santana way. "We can't afford to have someone like _her_ on the team." Brittany stayed silent. She knew she was supposed to say something. Supposed to agree. But her body defied her and refused to allow the words out.

"Brittany?" She was only jolted back into sanity by the calling of her name.

"Exactly. Besides, Coach Sylvester is the one that decides who gets on the team, not me." Quinn nodded to show that she understood but only offered a slight smile in return. She didn't question her when Brittany raised her hand and asked to leave for the bathroom. Instead, she just watched Brittany leave with her fingers curled up into her palm and her jaw locked.

The moment she was outside of the classroom, Brittany crashed her body back against the door and twisted her fingers through her hair. She closed her eyes tightly until she was sure they would not open until she required them to. She was bewildered as to why she hadn't agreed with Quinn without hesitation. They _couldn't _afford to have someone like her on the team, that much Brittany knew. She couldn't quite understand her body's apparent refusal to agree with Quinn's words. She opened her eyes to find the empty hallway surrounding her and began to make her way towards the bathroom. She'd barely made it a few steps when a familiar voice rang out, echoing throughout the hallway.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were stalking me." Brittany let out on inaudible groan. She hadn't even made it past a row of lockers when Santana fell into step with her.

"Well then, that's where you're wrong. You were already out here when I arrived."

"You're quite quick off the mark for a cheerleader, aren't you?" Brittany felt her stomach tighten at the insinuation. Before she could give her a sufficient answer, Santana was stepping in front of her, the corners of her lips tugging upwards to form a smirk. She extended a hand forwards and caught a stray strand of golden hair that had fallen over the right side of Brittany's forehead. She caught it between her fingers and held it there for a moment, studying it for a heartbeat or two, before tucking it back into its original position behind Brittany's ear.

"You're different from the rest of them." Santana's words were so softly spoken, so impossibly quiet that Brittany had to lean in until her breath was blanketing Santana's chin to catch them. She parted her lips to speak but found that no sound would come out apart from a slight croak. She was muted by the pressure of Santana's warm fingers lingering on her skin.

"Brittany?" She was brought abruptly crashing back into reality by the sound of Kurt's voice. She turned her back on Santana to find him a few yards behind her, fixing her with a frozen expression of puzzlement.

"H-hello, Kurt." Even she could not disguise the stutter. She heard Santana stifle a laugh behind her and gritted her teeth to avoid the clench of her jaw.

"What are you doing out here?" Kurt took a moment to observe Santana before wrinkling his nose at her dismissively. "With _her_?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head, Hummel. Your little friend still has her virtue intact." Venom rose in Brittany's body at the implication.

"Santana." He acknowledged her with a visible wince. "Always a pleasure."

"The same goes for you, Hummel." This time, he stepped around Brittany to address her.

"May I ask why you're out here? With Brittany?"

"Mr O'Brien sent me out here. To cool off." She shrugged simply.

"Cool off?" Even Santana raised a thin eyebrow when Brittany finally cleared her throat and spoke up.

"I told Berry exactly where she could shove her textbook. Apparently that wasn't a positive contribution to the 'learning.'" Brittany fought hard to disguise a laugh as a spluttering cough. If Kurt were to discover her laughing with _Santana Lopez_, the consequences would be unthinkable.

"Charming." Kurt muttered.

"Am I ever anything but?" Santana replied, taking an exaggerated bow before another smirk. "I just bumped into Pierce on my way out here. Nothing for you to get those terribly tight pants into a twist over."

"Run along, Santana." He sighed, dismissing her with his hand.

"Have you forgotten who you're talking to, Hummel? Or would you like Puck to remind you?" Kurt shuddered at the thought. He'd received enough purple blotches on his skin after a quick shove from Puck into a set of lockers.

"Go back to class, then."

"I have all the time in the world for class."

"Then enjoy yourself here. Hell, rot for all I care. We're leaving." Kurt tugged at Brittany's hand while Santana's eyes remained firmly fixed on the muted blonde, mahogany orbs never once leaving Brittany's body.

"Be careful, Hummel. You're not doing yourself any favours by insulting me." Kurt rolled his eyes and turned around, waiting for Brittany to do the same. She span around just as he had and followed his quick steps past the countless rows of lockers.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Kurt said, though he was facing away from her.

"I could always complete some more of my mindless, juvenile vandalising as you like to call it, on your locker. Or perhaps your car. God, that silver paint is just screaming to have a key ran through it, isn't it? I could turn your precious car into a patchy piece of jagged scratches, if you'd like me to."

"You wouldn't dare-"

"Don't underestimate me for one second, Hummel. It wouldn't take much. Perhaps Noah's knife would be more efficient than my keys. It wouldn't take long, either." She spoke so calmly that Brittany was almost thrown completely by the sound of her voice alone.

"That's enough, Lopez." He said, fury rising in his tone.

"Oh, but it's not _nearly _enough. There's still the deflation of your tyres to discuss. Maybe the shatter of your windscreen, if you're lucky enough!" Santana's voice remained without a trace of a snarl or a hint of a growl. _Just calm,_ Brittany thought. _Practiced._

Hollow.

"Goodbye, Santana." Kurt said finally, continuing his walk with Brittany out of the hallway.

"Oh, and Pierce? Brittany turned to face darkened eyes and a painted smirk. "I'm expecting an answer by tomorrow."

* * *

The next time Brittany encountered Santana, she found her unscrewing the cap of a metallic flask that glistened and gleamed in the early sunlight. She watched silently as Santana's lips puckered to lap up the liquid contained in the flask and took a sharp intake of breath as mocha eyes fell on hers. Before she could drop the uncomfortable gaze, Santana had stood to her feet from her position on the dewy grass beside Puck and wandered over to where Brittany sat with a grimacing Quinn and Kurt on either side of her.

"My three favourite people in the entire world." Santana greeted, her hand locked tightly around the flask.

"I'm delighted to see you've graced us with your presence." Quinn muttered, a scowl accompanying her words.

"The pleasure is mine, dearest Quinn. Sadly, it's not you I've come to see." Brittany felt her pulse quicken involuntarily. She could feel her skin begin to pick up colour, her cheeks staining with a deep red, and her body failed her, throat drying almost immediately.

"Is there a reason you're bothering us?" Kurt snapped, though he was still somewhat wary of her earlier threat.

"Haven't you learnt yet, Hummel? You don't do yourself any favours by opening your mouth." Santana said while Kurt obliged to her reluctantly and snapped his mouth shut.

"Isn't a little early to be drinking?" Without her realisation, Brittany's words had slipped into the open, hanging in the air.

"It's almost noon."

"It's eleven o'clock." Brittany corrected her.

"You'd be surprised what a little liquor can do for you in the morning." Her fingers found the cap of the flask as she spoke.

"I think you've had quite enough of that for one morning." Quinn reached forwards to take the flask from her hands but was met with a painfully tight clutch on her wrist. Santana's hand squeezed on her wrist and lifted it just above her head, as if she were toasting to a champion.

"Careful, Fabray. Wouldn't want to hurt those pretty little wrists now, would we? Such delicate bones. I'd hate to see them damaged in any form." Santana's voice was an odd combination of a growl and a laugh. It was a combination that made goosebumps rise on the back of Brittany's neck and throughout her flesh like a wildfire, one that had no intention of coming to a halt.

"Let _go_!" Quinn demanded while she finally shook her wrist free of Santana's astonishing grip.

"Let that be a lesson to you, Lucy." The use of her name sent a shudder through Quinn's spine.

"Are you going to get to the point, Lopez?" Brittany's words were once again unauthorised and she tucked her lips into her mouth to avoid a repeat of the mistake.

"Patience, Princess." The nickname caused Brittany's heart to hammer against the weak confinement of her chest in rapid, uneven beats.

"Get to it, Santana." Kurt urged despite his growing fear as the consequences of his words as a menacing smirk formed on her lips.

"I want to go on a date with you." A silence followed first. Then an incredulous snort escaped from Quinn.

"You are joking, aren't you?" Santana grinned and took a swig from the flask.

"Of course not. Why else would I require the Dutch courage?" Santana gestured to the flask as she pulled her lips away from it.

"I think the drink has made you delusional." Kurt mumbled.

"Not at all."

"I told you already. I don't want anything to do with you." Brittany said, fingers flexed and twitching at the hem of her skirt.

"I want one date, Pierce. One date and that's it. You're free of me."

"Do others find this charming? Your persistence?"

"Persistence is a word used far too often and never in the correct circumstances. I prefer admiration." Santana's words were causing Brittany's pulse to once again gather pace. Her stomach defied her pleas for the opposite and knotted to form a selection of twists.

"Admiration?" Brittany tested the word on her tongue. Kurt and Quinn seemed to dissolve into thin air beside her until they were the only two remaining.

"Exactly. To be clear, Princess, I'd like a decision by the end of the week."

"I don't recall telling you that you could call me that." Brittany managed a scowl to disguise the unsettling of her stomach.

"I don't recall you telling me opposite, either." Santana answered, lips quirked. "Believed me when I say it gives me no pleasure to tell you I have to go now." Santana took Brittany's hand in hers and, before Brittany could protest, pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. At the gesture, an explosion of warmth rippled through Brittany, tearing at her skin and threatening to escape her body in the form of heated cheeks.

"I hope you realise that you disgust each of us." Quinn suddenly spat.

"Oh, my dear Quinn. You're never going to learn to keep that fucking mouth of yours shut, are you?" Quinn recoiled slightly, taking a sharp gasp at Santana's sneer. Brittany was too disorientated by Santana's soft lips on her skin to manage even a sentence. Every part of her felt clammy and the winded breaths in her throat were close to choking her with every gasp of air she inhaled.

"I thought you were leaving." Kurt mumbled.

"And I thought I told you that impoliteness will get you nowhere, Hummel." Santana reminded him before turning walk back to Puck, sunlight breaking onto her bare neck as if only to secure the capture of Brittany's attention that Santana already had.

"I apologise in advance for using such language in the presence of ladies but she, and I don't say this often, is the biggest asshole I have ever encountered in my life." Kurt stated.

"I second that." Quinn agreed, nursing the red indent that Santana's nails had left on her wrist.

"Though I do find her penchant for herself to be quite amusing." Kurt muttered, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow.

"I don't want to talk about her." Both Kurt and Quinn's heads snapped round to give Brittany a quizzical look. "She's a distraction. A-and anything that's a distraction for us is a distraction for the team." Brittany said, pointing to the fabric of their Cheerio shirts that clung to them tightly. As she spoke, she noticed the trickles of sweat that had formed on her upper lip were sliding into her mouth, slipping through her lips and leaving the taste of salt on her tongue. Her mind made a feeble attempt to blame the increasing stickiness of palms on the heat but that did not explain the thick, heavy tighten of her chest.

Santana was burning through her body, her senses, her whole mind and Brittany despised every second of it.

"She has a point. Lopez is just a distraction. It'll pass." Quinn conceded while Kurt nodded in agreement.

Brittany swallowed hard, as if swallowing would remove the growing lump in her throat. She swallowed as if it would instantly quench the burning in her stomach and end the boiling of her blood.

As if it would destroy every and any thought of Santana.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for the lovely reviews so far, they really keep me motivated to keep writing!**

* * *

The idea alone that Santana made Brittany feel something was ridiculous. But the idea that she made her feel fury and loathing unlike any she had ever encountered before was enough to frustrate her to the point of exhaustion.

Annoyance she had dealt with before and irritation was trivial. But the way Santana had made herself at home beneath Brittany's skin, the way she had crept in so effortlessly, was different to anything and anyone that had passed before in her life. But the part that Brittany hated the most, the part that forced her to despise herself, was how impossibly _good _Santana made her feel.

She lay on her back on the grass, plucking the thin blades from the thick earth with her fingers, after Cheerios practice and allowed the sun to soak her skin, letting its warm rays tickle her flesh.

"Do you mind if I join you?" The voice jolted Brittany from her peaceful haze. She opened her eyes but was only met with powerful rays of the sun that forced to close them shut almost instantly.

"Has your persistence finally turned to stalking, Lopez?" Santana laughed quietly and, although the anger was already preparing itself in her body, Brittany could have sworn it was the softest noise she'd ever heard.

"Just stay quiet for a while, Pierce." Santana said as she dropped onto her back beside Brittany. She let out a groan as her back clashed with the warm, dry earth but otherwise lay down without a word.

"I told you I didn't want you near me." Brittany mumbled.

"You're free to move if you like." Santana replied, letting her fingers fall to the space between her and Brittany.

"I'm not sure what it is you want, Lopez, but-"

"You." Even in the sweltering heat, Brittany's skin managed to dampen further as the word left Santana's lips. "You're more difficult than I expected."

"And what were you expecting?" Brittany scoffed, hand coming to rest over her eyes to shield them from the sun.

"The opposite of a challenge." Santana's fingers found the damp polyester of Brittany's Cheerios shirt and came to rest at the base of the fabric, curling up against it with such warmth, that Brittany's judgement clouded temporarily for her to be absorbed by Santana's touch. A combination of the heat and the careful graze of Santana's fingers caused sweat to collect on her shirt and seep through slowly, forcing the material to cling to her even tighter.

"Can I ask you something?"

"No." Brittany stated despite the rapid crumble of her resolve under the feeling of Santana's fingers against her shirt, pressing against her skin. But Santana was already turning to lie on her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Why do you let them treat you like a child?" Brittany's breath escaped her body and left her with nothing. Only a dry mouth and a frozen tongue.

Santana's words had been the last thing she was expecting.

"I-if you think that's true, then I've never felt sorrier for you." She insisted feebly.

"Don't act like one of them when you're not. You're not one of them."

"And what makes you think that I'm acting like-"

"Don't talk like that. Like them. It doesn't suit you." Brittany felt her jaw drop slightly. Santana's words were having a quick, humiliating effect on her. Her fingers were still clutched at her Cheerios shirt, sending tiny shivers along her skin, even in the dizzying heat.

"I am one of them." She claimed in return.

"No. No, you're not. Far from it if anything." Brittany didn't dare turn to face Santana for fear of faltering completely if she did so. Instead, she rubbed her palms against her eyes and took in the scent of vanilla that transferred to their surroundings from Santana's body.

"I don't understand. The other day, you were telling me the complete opposite."

"In aesthetic terms, yes. Yes, you are one of them. But not in other ways. You're different." Santana decided, hands laid flat out on the grass instead of grazing across Brittany's stomach. Brittany watched the metal piercing that was attached to Santana's tongue reflect the sunlight as she ran it over her lips. She inhaled the breath in which she was planning to answer her with but it was interrupted as a large shadow was cast over them. She heard the heavy thud of Karofsky's football boots as they pounded on the ground before she spotted his hulking figure and slowly sat up.

"What's this? Have you been through so many boys in the school that you've turned to the girls?" He taunted Brittany with purpose, revelling in the reaction it squeezed out of her as she squirmed and tried to ignore the rising in her cheeks.

"Such a shame, David." Santana murmured.

"Did you say something, Lopez?"

"I can't imagine what it's like to be you. To have Hummel bending over in those awfully tempting pants every day and not being able to take any action about it. It must be a terribly lonely." Karofsky stiffened as she spoke. The smirk dropped from his lips and transformed into a furious scowl.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Now, David. I know you're not the brightest but you're not completely moronic. Tell me, what it's like? Watching Hummel in assembly? Watching the sweat slide down his neck until-"

"ENOUGH!" Karofsky bellowed suddenly, dragging Santana to her feet by clutching the beginning of her v-neck. Brittany stood to her feet on impulse, helpless as the situation spiralled in front of her.

"Still haven't learn to tame those self-control issues? You really should learn to rein it in. It'll land you in trouble." She didn't waver when Karofsky brought his sneers directly into her face, heavy breath striking her jaw.

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" He cried, fists clenching further around her shirt.

"Oh, David. Where are your manners? You'll never learn to be a gentleman for Hummel without studying the basic rules of politeness." His face flushed and his fingers curled around her shirt further.

"Shut the fuck up, Lopez." He sneered with an uncontrollable rage.

"Language! One should learn to speak with eloquence. Hummel will never taste your cock if you don't speak delicately, David. Speak with your mouth and not with your fists." She jibed again, taking pleasure in watching his face contort into a mixture of anger and desperation.

"Liar! You're lying!" He screamed.

"Don't be naive, David. Your sheer stupidity may give an accurate description of you but it doesn't _define _you. The only that defines you is your apparent yearning for Hummel. Or is it just his cock? I still haven't-" She was cut off as Karofsky released his grip on her and threw her to the floor. She collided with the ground with a thunderous crash, face first.

"Just...j-just stay away from me, Lopez!" He stammered before taking off in the opposite direction. Brittany watched in silence as Santana picked herself up from the ground and examined the cheek that had taken the full force of her fall and resulted in a cut that oozed droplets of blood. Santana kept her eyes trained on the ground as she pressed the pad of her thumb to the freshly acquired slice, forcing the blood back into its wound. Cautiously, Brittany did the only thing she could think of and knelt beside Santana. She allowed her hand to fall forwards until it came to rest against her cheek. She brushed a thumb across the cut, absorbing the wet blood, and wiped it on the grass beneath them. Her thumb returned to Santana's cheek and stayed there for a while, frozen against her skin, until Brittany was snapped from her comfortable daze by Santana's eyes flitting up to meet hers. Behind their darkened exterior, something seemed to snap. There was a flash of humiliation flickering in them that simultaneously fascinated and unsettled Brittany. She dropped her thumb from Santana's cheek and shifted backwards, defining the distance between them.

"Awful, isn't it? David's lack of self-control. It will never end well for him." Brittany took a moment to study Santana and felt her whole body tighten. The cut on her cheek had smeared the lower half of her cheek with copper-like blood and the wound had picked up several flecks of dust and rough dirt from the ground.

"Run back to Fabray and Hummel, Brittany. They'll be waiting for you." Was all Santana spat out. So, Brittany obeyed. She obeyed and began to walk away until a thought struck her so hard and so unexpectedly that it almost overwhelmed her entire being.

That was the first time Santana had ever used her first name.

* * *

"I told you that you'd have more luck with Berry." Puck laughed as Santana lowered herself onto the hood of his car. "What happened to your face?"

"Are you ever going to sell this piece of junk, Puckerman?" She drummed her fingers against the hard metal of the bonnet. The heat attracted by the dark, dense colour of the car was evident against her fingers. Glimmering rays of sunlight fell on the car, forming patterns to dance on the harsh metal.

"You're not listening to me."

"Is that really such a rarity?" Puck let out a sigh before quickly changing the subject.

"What do you think about the party at Quinn Fabray's house tomorrow?"

"You want to go to a party with Fabray?" Santana fixed him with a puzzled expression.

"Not _with _Fabray. A party _at _Fabray's."

"There's no difference."

"Would you shut up, for once? Just shut up and answer the fucking question." Puck snapped suddenly. "And what happened to your cheek?"

"I caught it earlier, okay?" Santana bit back. "Anyway, a party at the president of the celibacy club's house? Give me one reason as to why I would want to do that."

"Because your little cheerleader is going." Santana straightened up at his words. The idea of attending Quinn Fabray's house with the presence of Pierce was tempting if not enough to change her mind altogether.

"Along with the rest of the McKinley High cheer squad, I assume."

"I don't have time for this, Lopez. Do you want to go or not?" She stretched her back out over the hood of the car, resting against the rust and the inconsistent scratches of black paint.

"I'll think about it." She said, turning her head to catch flickers of the beaming sun on her neck. "Anyway, how are you planning to get there?" She reached down and tugged at the monitor strapped around his ankle.

"It only lasts until tonight. If I'm on good behaviour. I don't even know why I have the damn thing. It's not like I did anything that bad." He scowled.

"You tried to break into a bank." Santana pointed out.

"It was an ATM, actually."

"Close enough."

"Besides, I only tried." He corrected.

"And failed." She mumbled.

"If I recall correctly, you were willing to help until the last second."

"When my mother called me to tell me she was on her way home? While you and I were still in her car?" Santana said.

"Right. So much for partners in crime, Lopez."

"I sincerely apologise for keeping you under the false impression that we were the new Bonnie and Clyde." Puck chuckled and pulled the silver flick knife from his pocket, twirling it around his fingers carefully.

"I think I'm gonna go slash Karofsky's tyres again. Wish me luck!" He announced.

"Good luck. And Noah? Try not to get caught this time." He nodded before sliding off the car and heading through the parking lot, sun beating down on the warm leather of his jacket. Santana closed her eyes in the heat and leant back against the car again. She weighed out her options in her head. A party at Quinn Fabray's house was not something she often desired for. But the chance of finding Pierce with alcohol slipping through her bloodstream was far too good for her to pass up. The pieces were beginning to fall into place, slotting together exactly as they were supposed to. Then, in the blistering midday heat, Santana let her thoughts drift into the idea of Brittany. Her pale skin that coloured so wonderfully when they spoke to one another. The cerulean eyes that seemed to spill into an ocean of calm. The yelp of a stutter that escaped her lips whenever Santana leant further forwards.

She relaxed her hands behind her head and allowed a smirk to take complete control of her lips.

Perhaps Quinn Fabray was about to prove herself to be a little more than the president of the celibacy club.


	4. Chapter 4

She knew she shouldn't have done it. She shouldn't have even thought about it. But her hand was on the door handle before her mind had the door handle before her mind had the chance to react logically.

React correctly.

She inched the door open and slipped inside, hands swinging behind her back and fingers knotting together anxiously.

"W-what are you doing in here?" She croaked out, hands frozen behind her.

"Detention. Ever been in one?" Santana said, leaning back against the plastic of her chair.

"No. What are you supposed to be doing?" Brittany asked, gnawing on her lower lip.

"Reading." Brittany dared herself to take a step away from the safety of the doorframe and towards Santana.

"Reading what?" Santana pushed the book to the end of her tiny desk so that Brittany could read the title clearly.

"_The Great Gatsby._" She read aloud, thumb tracing the spine of the book.

"I've already read it." Santana mumbled quietly. "Twice."

"What are you in detention for?" Brittany questioned, hand still placed tentatively on the book.

"Vandalising Karofsky's locker." Brittany initially opened her mouth to reply but then swiftly clamped it shut again. There was no need to push the subject further. "Why are you here?" Santana asked, eyeing the heavy gym bag that Brittany had dropped beside her feet.

"I-I was on my way back from Cheerios practice-" Brittany stopped herself short. If she were to admit the truth and tell her that her body had dictated her mind, opening the door in which she'd noticed Santana through the window, she would only satisfy Santana. Instead, she swallowed to wet the drought in her throat and allowed her eyes to fall upon the cut on Santana's cheek. It had healed slightly since the last time she'd seen her but it still carried noticeable traces of dried blood.

"How's your cheek?" Santana scoffed at the question and stole the book back from beneath Brittany's hand.

"It's fine." She grumbled, turning her cheek away from Brittany's view. "I've had worse."

And Brittany didn't doubt her words for more than a second.

Santana was startled by the touch of fingers against her cheek, grazing at the closed wound just as they had the day before. Impulsively, Brittany searched her pockets for something to treat the aggressive slice. Her fingers wrapped around a tissue that sat scrunched up in the pocket of her Cheerios jacket. She wet the tissue with a drop from the water bottle perched on the desk and pressed it lightly to Santana's cheek. She laid it over the cut and kept it there, making sure that the wound would not reopen and bleed as thoroughly as it did yesterday. Santana fidgeted uncomfortably as Brittany kept the tissue pressed to her cut, moving it slightly to remove any specks of dirt that had crept in while the wound was still open the day before.

"Didn't you clean yourself up yesterday?" Brittany said.

"Like I said, worse has happened." Answered Santana.

"Stay still." Brittany ordered, struggling to steady the tissue against the cut as Santana squirmed in her seat.

"I thought you didn't want to be near me, let alone touch me." Brittany's fingers against her cheek began to tremble a little.

"Well, you clearly aren't capable of treating it yourself."

"Don't think to tell me what I'm capable of, Pierce." Santana growled suddenly, hand raised to grip Brittany's arm.

"I've already seen what you're capable of." She murmured, struggling to stabilise her shaking fingers.

"No, you haven't. Vandalising the locker of an uneducated asshole isn't the extent of my capability." Santana spoke coldly and firmly. She swatted Brittany's hand from her cheek and stood up from the desk, pushing the chair away from her. She took a few steps towards the door and began to push it open, keeping one hand to her cheek.

"You have detention." Brittany whispered as a reminder. Santana let her shoulders shrug but didn't turn to face her.

"Mr O'Brien left a while ago. He didn't want to stay around and left me to this damn detention on my own." She opened the door into the hallway, waiting for Brittany's voice to once again call out to her.

But it didn't come. Santana ran one finger across her cut, pressing it there in replacement of Brittany's fingers, and ruptured the silence with a murmur so quiet that Brittany almost mistook it for a sharp breath.

"Thank you."

* * *

Through Brittany's eyes, a party at Quinn's house was the perfect way to escape the heavy thoughts that were dominating her mind. They were fast, uncomfortable thoughts that made her cheeks colour and her breath catch in her chest. They were thoughts that began in the pit of her stomach and gradually worked their way through her entire body, spreading out from her core to the very ends of her fingertips and the base of her spine. Thoughts that forced her chest to constrict and her body to dehydrate. Thoughts that radiated warmth at one point and terrible shivers at another.

They were thoughts of Santana Lopez.

Since their encounter during Santana's detention, she'd made a firm promise to herself to never allow a similar incident to take place again.

"Brittany! Are you ready?" She shook her head violently and turned to face Kurt, who was generously applying a vat of moisturiser to his skin as he examined himself in the mirror.

"Almost." She replied, taking a comb through her hair while Kurt stood up and waited in the doorway.

"Come on, Quinn's expecting us." He said. Brittany joined him before following him downstairs, hollering a quick goodbye to his dad, and stepping into the porch. Despite the darkness having already fallen on the street, the air was still humid and sent warmth racing through Brittany. She walked with him to his car in silence until they stepped inside, when Kurt finally spoke.

"Guess who finally got their tag off yesterday?"

"Who?"

"Puckerman." Kurt said dryly.

"As in the guy that got Quinn pregnant in Sophomore year?"

"The one and only." Brittany groaned inwardly. The idea of Noah Puckerman's presence was enough to bring a physical sense of dread to her body. She placed her palms flat against her head as Kurt pulled out of his drive and began the journey to Quinn's house. By the time they arrived, the repetitive throb of music was already strumming out through the thin sheets of glass that made up the windows. They climbed out of the car and took a few careful steps over the drunken bodies that lay sprawled out on the damp grass of the garden. Kurt rapped his knuckles against the door and waited for Quinn to throw it open, beaming and grinning just as she was supposed to. The moment she did, Brittany was greeted with a body falling into hers. Alcohol fumes wafted upwards from the figure and slurs entered her ears. She stepped aside to let the body stumble into the doorframe, wincing as the boy staggered into the thick wood of the door and remained there, paralysed by the alcohol that travelled through his system.

"I'm glad you two came. I have to get back to hosting now but enjoy yourselves!" Quinn trilled before returning to the hallway to attend to other guests.

"Do you want a drink?" Brittany asked Kurt as they took a seat on the couch that was largely populated by caps of empty liquor bottles. He nodded and Brittany stood to make her way into the kitchen. She walked into the empty room and grabbed the first bottle of alcohol that sat on the countertop. She poured them both two generous shots before a voice startled her, causing her to spill Kurt's drink over the countertop, the liquid trickling on to her fingers as she did so.

"Quite the adventurer, aren't we?" She span around to find Santana leaning against the fridge beside the door, hands tucked under her folded arms.

"What are you doing here?"

"The same as you, I assume."

"I doubt that." Brittany muttered, the corner of her eye catching Santana's cheek. The cut had healed significantly and was no longer a singular scarlet stripe across her skin.

"You'd be surprised." Santana said, taking steps forward until she was stood beside Brittany at the kitchen counter.

"How did you get in?"

"What makes you think that I wasn't invited?" Santana's jaw dropped open in mock surprise.

"I dread to think of Quinn's state of mind if she let you in."

"There it is again." Santana remarked.

"What?"

"The wit. Your wit. It's oddly quick for a cheerleader." She said, taking the drink from Brittany's hand before swallowing the shot with ease. "Anyway, it's surprisingly easy to slip in through the back door." She said, tongue darting out to lap up the remainder of warm liquid on her lips.

"Why are you here, Santana?"

"Why would I ever miss the chance for a party at the Fabray household? Home of McKinley's resident bible basher and head of the celibacy club?" Brittany groaned and turned around, intending to leave Santana alone with her drink. She was stopped by a sudden grip on her wrist, strong fingers wrapping around her skin. "Not to mention I'm yet to receive an answer from you."

"Cheerleaders don't date trash. How am I supposed to live with a reputation of attending a dare with McKinley's resident Lima loser?" Brittany snapped in reply, echoing Santana's description of Quinn.

"And who do you date instead? Neanderthals in Letterman jackets? Or is it those members of your little Glee club?" Santana taunted, breath achingly close to Brittany's lips as she spoke.

"Both are far more interesting choices than the likes of you." Brittany assured her despite the memory of her fingers brushing against Santana's cheek and the coiling in her stomach that was disagreeing with every word that left her lips.

"You don't have the first idea about me, do you, Pierce?" Brittany's mouth opened but she found it to be painfully dry. Then, Santana's lips were crashing against hers. They were crashing against hers desperately and in such a manner that Brittany felt her whole body twist in an attempt to bring them closer together.

Their bodies collided simultaneously, crashing together to form a singularity. The walls of Brittany's stomach felt as if they were threatening to cave in, the end of her spine sending jolts along her body while Santana's lower lip grazed against hers. Euphoria coursed through her veins like a boiling liquid, bubbling through her body. Santana's lips were against hers and they were warm and forceful and everything Brittany could possibly imagine. Traces of peppermint spilled onto her lips, pushing past them and leaving the taste to dance on her tongue. Her back came into contact with the countertop and, had her mouth not been pressed to Santana's, she would have let out a sharp yelp of pain. Instead, on instinct, Brittany's fingers tightened around Santana's waist and began to scrape at the bottom of her spine, travelling up to the curve of her back. They dug into Santana's hips, clutching on for something, anything.

Everything around them became irrelevant, unimportant and temporary.

Their surroundings faded until it became only them, infinite as they wrapped around one another. Everything but the taste and the sheer pressure of Santana's lips fell apart. Brittany's tongue was just beginning to run along Santana's lower lip when Santana was breaking away, releasing her hands from the grooves they had found in Brittany's body.

"Enough." She whispered, words barely audible through the density of her breathing.

"W-what?" Brittany spluttered, helpless against Santana's lips.

"Enough for now." Santana mumbled, pulling away but not far enough that Brittany could no longer inhale her scent. Warmth and cinnamon poured from her body and worked their way into Brittany's senses.

"Enough?" Brittany was incredulous. Her tongue still harboured the taste of Santana and her fingers were still scraping at her hips in desperation.

"This doesn't qualify as a date, Pierce."

"And what does?" Fury was creeping into Brittany's voice, slipping into each word.

"That would be telling." Santana said, lips quirked into a twisted grin.

"Fuck you, Lopez." Brittany spat, venom infecting her words.

"Before our first date? I hate to inform you that I'm not that type of girl, Pierce-" She was cut off by Brittany's body forcing her back against the door beside the fridge.

"I told you I wanted nothing to do with someone like you. Nothing has changed. I still don't want you anywhere near me." She hissed, voice poisoned with rage.

"Oh, but your mouth would prove otherwise. You can still taste me there, can't you? How do I feel, dancing along your lips?" At this, Brittany pinched her lips together and stayed silent. She looked down at her hands, tightened around Santana's waist, holding her against the door, and recoiled in horror.

"It was a mistake. _You _were a mistake." The words had barely been spoken when Santana leant forwards and pressed her lips firmly to the base of Brittany's chin. They remained there for only a second before they travelled to the bottom of Brittany's ear and parted to let out a whisper.

"Still a mistake, Pierce?" Santana's breath was curling into her ear, sending a sharp rush through Brittany's whole being.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked, mind struggling to keep up with the involuntary actions of her body.

"Therapy for my terrible juvenile delinquency. A wonderful way to waste my time. Take your pick." Santana's hand journeyed forwards to rest on Brittany's waist but Brittany slapped it away and leapt backwards, sneering.

"Don't _touch _me, Lopez." She growled, horrified that she'd allowed herself to sink into Santana. But her resolve was crumbling. Her voice was failing her and her snarls were beginning to falter. "I don't understand what you want from me." Santana fixed with her an expression that was akin to hurt, almost crestfallen.

But it was wiped away and replaced with a smirk without fail.

"You're the head cheerleader. What do you _think _people want from you?" Brittany couldn't disguise her anger. Her fingers clenched around Santana's shoulders and slammed her back into the door. She brought her face closer to Santana's, breaths replaced with sneers, and allowed the fury to burst out of her body.

"How dare you? How _dare _you even think to insult me? You seem to keep forgetting that all you are is a worthless, snivelling delinquent that has nothing better to do than taunt me and I'm the only one of us who's actually worth something at this school!"

"Do you really think that your little uniform is worth something?" Santana answered her with the same bitter tone. "In ten years, do you think your popularity is going to matter? Do you think the people that praise you today are going to praise you then? No! Nothing. We're all worth nothing." Santana's expression was not one of arrogance. It was not one of cockiness or confidence. It was simply one of acceptance. Slowly, Brittany released the grip on Santana's shoulders and backed away, panting heavily with jagged breaths. Santana's outburst and both terrified and intrigued her. She'd never longed so terribly to find out more about a person. To scratch far beneath their surface. Before she had the chance, whatever it was that had registered on Santana's face before had faded and she instead wore an ignorant smirk.

"Better run, Pierce. Your friends will begin to wonder where you are." Brittany nodded obediently and stepped away from Santana, turning to push the door open before stepping out into the room on the other side.

But Brittany was alone in the crowd of damp bodies.

Alone and wondering how she had possibly allowed herself to cave into Santana with such ease.

* * *

**Thoughts on that chapter?**


	5. Chapter 5

"Take me home." Kurt twisted his head to the side to find Brittany beside him, thumbs tracing circles over her own palms.

"Britt, what-"

"Just take me home, Kurt. Please." She spoke but didn't raise her head as she did so. Kurt was about to protest when he noticed her expression. Her chin was lowered and her brow was furrowed. Two of her teeth sank into her lip and her hands remained threaded together. He decided against letting out a protest and instead stood up, his hand falling onto her forearm.

"Okay, we'll go home." He said softly, escorting her through the crowd until they reached the concrete porch. He placed a hand on her back until they were at the passenger door of his car, where she climbed in without a word. They drove in an uncomfortable silence, Brittany remaining mute for almost the entire journey until she finally gave out a mumble as they pulled up outside her house.

"Thank you, Kurt."

"No problem. Are you okay?"

"F-fine. Just feeling a little sick." He nodded in understanding and unlocked the door for her. She clambered out of the car and made her way into her house, slipping through the front door by quietly turning her key in the lock.

Once she was in the safety of her house, she slid to the floor and curled up, tucking her knees beneath her chin securely. She froze in her position, nails digging into her knuckles as she wrapped her arms around her knees. There was a dull, hollow ache creeping through her body, leaving her cold and breathless as she closed her tired eyelids. She forced herself into thoughts that contained not even the slightest memory of Santana's warm lips against hers but found that they were slipping away from her grasp with each plea for the opposite. She curled up into herself and made one final attempt to shut her eyes, defeated by the pressure of her thoughts and the tighten of her stomach.

With exhaustion infecting her body, she finally fell asleep quietly while the taste of Santana's lips burnt into her mind.

* * *

Failure was not something that Santana often associated herself with. So, when Brittany didn't even glance her way on Monday morning, both refusal and disbelief wormed their way into her system. She walked over to where Brittany was shovelling books into her locker and widened her smirk at the way she writhed a little as she approached her. She snatched the thick book from Brittany's palms and proceeded to study it for a second or two before Brittany was clawing at her arms in frustration.

"Give it back."

"I told you before to have patience, Pierce. It's a wonderful virtue, you know?" Santana said calmly, keeping the book firmly out of Brittany's reach.

"Just give me my book, Lopez." Santana only ignored her further and continued to examine the battered copy.

"_Lord of The Flies_." She eventually commented.

"It's for my English class." Brittany mumbled, taking the opportunity to grab the book back.

"It's interesting. Though I prefer _Of Mice and Men, _personally." Santana leant her body against the locker and her head came to rest against its cold, metallic surface.

"The only English class you've ever attended was one where you were suspended for smashing a bottle against the desk at the back." Brittany snapped.

"That doesn't mean that I don't have wonderful literary tastes."

"And what does it mean?"

"That the lesson was boring me. Think of it as a way of bringing a pinch of flavour to the class." Santana said, a grin spreading onto her lips.

"I don't have time for you this morning." But instead of her usual sneer or persistence, Santana leant in and pressed her lips to the spot just below Brittany's ear. At the contact, her body seized up altogether and she was left with a dense ache as soon as Santana's lips were no longer touching her skin. Santana pulled back with a smirk that almost took control of her entire jaw.

"_The Catcher In The Rye_ is always an interesting choice. Though it might be considered a little too heavy," Santana paused to wet her lips before going on. "For the illiterate." Something about the way that Santana spoke lit a spark within Brittany. A spark that soon grew into a painful, burning flame that travelled upwards through her insides.

"Are you saying that I'm-"

"Of course not. I was referring to those with their heads buried firmly in their asses." Santana made a gesture over to Karofsky and Azimio, who were standing some distance from them and paying attention to the boy they were dangling by the scruff of his collar.

"But aren't you the same? Throwing kids into lockers, slashing people's tyres, that kind of thing." Brittany said, sudden confidence bubbling inside of her, forming from the rage that was coursing through her.

"You still haven't learnt, have you? I don't choose anyone that it won't have an effect on. I'm specific." Brittany gulped at Santana's words. A shiver slithered through her and her lips were moving before she gave them consent to.

"Why me? W-why did you pick me?" The question seemed to throw Santana. Her facial expressions froze momentarily and she quirked her eyebrow before answering.

"You're interesting. There's something about your fantasised idea that this," Santana tugged sharply at the fabric of Brittany's Cheerios shirt. "is going to protect you. But you're not like the rest of them. You interest me." Despite her infuriation with the delinquent, if there was nothing to interrupt them. Brittany was quite sure she would have listened to Santana's words until the world disappeared around her. It was only the arrival of Quinn that distracted both of them, snapping Brittany back to a dull world of sanity.

"What the hell?"

"Quinn!"

"Oh dear, Fabray. What did I tell you about keeping your mouth shut?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Quinn addressed Brittany, not even bothering with a glance at Santana.

"Nothing!" Brittany said indignantly.

"Why are you letting this pathetic excuse for a life touch you?" Quinn demanded.

"I'm not! I don't-"

"Poor Lucy. You never have been the same since they took your daughter, have you?" Quinn turned to Santana, grimacing as her hands balled up into tight fists.

"What?"

"It must be terrible knowing that your daughter is in someone else's hands. Someone else's care." Santana was pushing her boundaries. She was attacking Quinn's vulnerability without limit, without hesitation.

"S-shut up."

"Only when you do the same." Santana sneered while both Brittany and Quinn flinched at her poisonous tone.

"Brittany and I are leaving now, I suggest you take note." Quinn snapped.

"Oh, Quinn. You should know better than to speak to me like that." But Quinn was already dragging Brittany out of the hallway and into the bathroom.

"What the hell was that?" She growled at a somewhat intimidated Brittany.

"I-it was nothing, Quinn."

"Do you have any idea of the consequences if anyone had seen you two together?"

"Quinn, it was nothing to worry ab-"

"Do you want to ruin everything you've worked for? Is that what you want?" Her words reminded her instantly of what Santana had said as her slender fingers collected a fistful of her shirt.

Even her uniform could not protect her from the things that would come to be.

"No."

"Then you can't let her anywhere near you. Do you understand me, Brittany?" Quinn addressed her like a child and Brittany felt the sharp sting of embarrassment at the idea of being treated as an infant that didn't know any better. It was strangely alike to Santana's question as they lay on their backs in the humid air of the school fields.

"I understand you, Quinn." She said while a trace of sourness resonated in her tone.

"Good. It's just nonsense, isn't it? Childish nonsense." Quinn scolded, releasing her hold on Brittany's forearm. Brittany didn't reply but instead mumbled a faint agreement. She waited until Quinn was seemingly happy with her response before giving her a practiced smile and turning to face the mirror.

"Come on, we have English." Quinn said, offering her arm for Brittany to link hers through. Brittany complied unceremoniously and looped her arm through Quinn's with little effort. It wasn't until the warm fabric of her Cheerios shirt began to itch and scratch against her skin that the thoughts began to slip into her mind and unsettle her completely.

For the first time in her life, she began to question the protection that her uniform offered her.

The comfort that she often found in the security of her uniform, her status, was unravelling just as every one of her thoughts was beginning to. Every idea she'd had about her future, her security, was fragile and all but prepared to dissolve and evaporate in her hands. Santana was forcing Brittany to question everything she'd ever worked for, everything she'd ever believed.

And there was not one part of Brittany that even protested.


	6. Chapter 6

Humiliation.

Something that causes one person to writhe and another to simply brush it off.

Something that stung Brittany's skin each time Santana's smirk toyed with her thoughts. She let out a long yawn, the result of a restless night spent squirming as Santana's words burnt her flesh, and outstretched her arms. Her skin felt as if it was constantly licked by flames, heating to the point of physical pain each time another blurry thought of Santana buried itself in her mind. Everything had been so simple, so clear, before Santana had taken a specific interest in her. Now, it was distorted. Each time she tried to summon an idea that felt somewhat safe or familiar, it emerged twisted and contorted, holding nothing of the security it had once provided her with. She was pre-occupied with the burning memory of Santana's smirk against her lips and paying little concentration on where her footsteps were leading her. She collided with a warm figure and stepped back immediately to avoid any embarrassment.

"Did no one ever teach you that clumsiness will lead you into trouble?" Brittany felt the heat attack her flesh before she'd even mumbled an answer.

"Sorry." She said but Santana only allowed her hand to fall on Brittany's cheek, cupping it lightly with her fingers.

"So delicate. It's a shame you've already wasted it on the half of the school." Santana's words struck her like a bolt of lightning. She felt the poison settle on her tongue instantaneously and opened her mouth to deliver the venom but Santana had already stepped past her, making her steps towards the bathroom. With little thought, Brittany followed impulsively and, once inside, locked the door behind her so that they were the only two in the room. If claustrophobia was never a fear to Brittany before, it was rapidly becoming one.

"I enjoy my privacy, Pierce." Santana said as she caught sight of Brittany leaning against the door, hand positioned precariously on the silver handle.

"Shut up! Just shut up! God, why do you keep doing this?" Brittany demanded, storming over to where Santana was standing with her back to the wall.

"Doing what?" Santana quirked an eyebrow, relishing in the way Brittany's face tightened and her features squeezed as her brow creased and she wiped her palms on her uniform.

"This! Embarrassing me. Humiliating me. You don't know anything about me. Anything! This ends now." Brittany informed her, close enough for Santana's scent to overwhelm her.

"Nothing ends. Not yet." She whispered.

"Who are you to decide that?"

"Things don't always work the way you'd like them to, Pierce. The world doesn't abide to your every wish." There was something sour in Santana's words. As if they were the way she saw things. Brittany opened her mouth to squawk something out but then Santana's hand was on her waist and anything she'd wanted to say became of little importance and instead lodged in her windpipe. "The world doesn't obey you." She surrendered without protest to Santana's fingers resting on hip and sucked in a long breath before closing the gap between their lips. Her hands instinctively locked around the back of Santana's neck, tracing patterns on the skin there and gripping it to ensure there was no loss of contact. Santana shifted carefully until Brittany was the one with her back pressed against the wall, eliciting a slight groan as she hit it.

No sooner had Brittany brought her hips up to meet Santana's than a warm, needy tongue was requesting permission for entry into her mouth. Santana's tongue traced a gentle path across Brittany's lower lip, waiting for them to part and allow her entry. Slowly, Brittany parted her lips and felt tremendous shivers travel along her spine as Santana's tongue met her own. A metallic taste filled with mouth as Santana's piercing slid against her tongue. Her fingers dug into the back of Santana's neck, pressing into her flesh relentlessly. Santana's hands fell to meet Brittany's waist and hoisted her up until her legs obeyed to wrap around Santana's waist, ankles locking around the small of her back. Brittany let out a whimper as Santana's lips left hers but she obliged when they instead met her collarbone. While Santana nipped at the pale skin of her collarbone, Brittany gave out a breathless moan in an attempt to satisfy the burning in her throat. Santana's lips journeyed upwards until they came into contact with the skin between Brittany's neck and the bottom of her ear.

"_Santana_." Brittany murmured once, so quietly that Santana wasn't sure she'd heard it correctly. She bit down gently on the bottom of Brittany's earlobe, teeth scraping at the reddened flesh. Her teeth sank into the skin and gnawed softly, gently tugging the beginning of Brittany's ear between her lips. She pulled back and brought her lips to meet Brittany's own, groaning into the contact. Desperation poured itself into Brittany's being. Desperation for more of her skin to press against Santana's, desperation for their fingers to lace and tangle while their bodies flushed together. She found something as her lips parted to meet Santana's.

That her demand for further contact with Santana's warm skin was similar to choking, in that it constricted her windpipe and strangled her throat, forcing her to breathe in rushed, ragged pants.

She discovered that her undivided desperation for Santana was a lot like suffocating.

"Control." Brittany was puzzled as Santana broke off.

"C-control?"

"Our friend David could require a little of it." Santana said, still holding Brittany up against the wall.

"Why did you say those things to Karofsky? A-about Kurt?" Brittany asked, hands dropping from Santana's neck to her sides.

"You see, what David lacks in education, he more than makes up for in self-hatred." Santana paused only to place her fingers beneath Brittany's chin. "Everyone in this school is so similar. They don't dare try to accept something for fear of it. You're not like them. However much you try to convince yourself that you are, there's a difference between you."

"W-which is?" Brittany gulped quickly.

"You don't fear what you can't explain." Santana shifted backwards until Brittany's legs dropped from around her waist and settled back on the floor.

"You don't know anything about me. Y-you can't tell me-"

"Stop trying to convince yourself that you're anything like them." Santana turned and began to walk towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I have detention. I wouldn't miss an hour of sitting alone at a desk in a stuffy room for anything. Including you." Brittany knew the heat shouldn't have risen to her cheekbones as Santana spoke but she was powerless to protest against it. She reached her hand out as if to stop her but Santana was already through the door, leaving it to snap shut in front of Brittany. She lowered the hand that was stretched into mid-air and let it dangle by her side. She twisted the tap and ran her hands, slick with sweat, under cool water, relishing the relief that the cold droplets brought to her palms. She rubbed her palms together under the water as if she was washing any trace of Santana from her skin.

But water would not wash away what had already scarred her.

* * *

The warm grass of the school fields which were blanketed by sharp shards of sunlight were nothing short of perfect to Santana. It was the only place in the school that she'd managed to get a little sleep in. It was as secluded as it was usually was during fifth period, where there were no gym classes or football practices to interrupt her tranquillity. A smile crept onto her lips as she lay against the warmth of the ground.

Cheerios practice began after fifth period.

She had, honestly, expected less of Brittany. She hadn't expected her to question why she had picked her. None of them had ever questioned her before.

"Mediocre!" Santana was shaken from her thoughts by the screech of Coach Sylvester's megaphone. She pried one eye open to catch the twists and acrobatics of the cheerleaders. She sat up slightly to watch their routine take place, momentarily considering the flexibility of their captain. But her eyes were opening and closing repeatedly. She gave in to the fatigue of her body and allowed her eyelids to shut while the heat continued to bathe her. She didn't open them again until she heard the instructions for the team to leave for the showers. She forced her body to awake and stood up, keeping her eyes focused on the blur of red and white as she walked forwards. She stopped when she reached an exhausted Brittany, wiping away the slick droplets of sweat on her forehead.

"Not bad."

"You can't be here." Brittany hissed, more than aware of Quinn's watchful eyes burning into them.

"Why not?" Santana asked, following Brittany's eye line over to where Quinn was standing. "Worried Fabray might be watching us? Well, I'll make it quick." Brittany sensed the bitterness in her voice and flinched in response.

"I just meant-"

"I live on forty three Westbrooks street." Brittany was sure she'd misheard her. She raised an eyebrow for confirmation. "I'm getting a little sick of being interrupted by moronic football players and your idiotic fellow cheerleaders." As a realisation accompanied her words, Brittany felt the heat creep up her neck. It caused a sudden freeze in her throat and a scarlet flush in her cheeks.

"You want me to come to y-your house?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No, I-"

"Then, I'll see you later." Brittany's cheeks only burnt further under Santana's grin, sending a furious red through her features. She exhaled a short breath and watched as Santana walked away, golden skin glistening in the heat. She curled her fingers into her damp palms and began to chew on the insides of her cheeks, burying her teeth there while her stomach finally began to settle. She ran a warm hand through her hair and waited for her pulse to drop its pace while her mind created a thought that both alarmed and thrilled her in equal measure.

She was going to be completely alone with Santana Lopez.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you so much for the reviews so far, I love reading every one of them and I really do take them all into consideration when writing. Enjoy a long chapter and who knows, perhaps you'll find out a little more about Santana in this one!**

* * *

Tremulous shivers shook her fingers against the door. It was unlocked and she pushed it open swiftly, opening it up to an almost endless hallway.

There was no doubt in her mind that the house was beautiful. Intricate paintings decorated each of the walls and a carefully designed glass vase sat on the cabinet beside the staircase. Her shoes felt suddenly dirty against the dark carpet beneath her feet and she scrambled backwards to wipe them on the doormat behind her. Brittany spent a few more moments studying the countless pictures that hung from the walls and the splashes of colour that covered the canvases. She stepped through into the lounge with a thick breath, struggling to keep the tiny beads of sweat from breaking onto her forehead. She found Santana laid out on the sofa, one arm wrapped around her stomach and the other resting near her chest. She lay with her face pressed against the sofa, cheek embedded with patterns from the leather, and her legs stretched until they could almost reach the opposite end. Her lips were curled into a slight smile while she let her chin rest against the armrest, lost in heavy sleep. She lay as though she was happy to stay embroiled in sleep for the rest of her life. In silence, with nothing to interrupt her from her piece of tranquillity, Brittany thought, Santana had never looked more at peace. Her features were relaxed and her jaw slack, lips parted to produce quick breaths. Brittany knelt beside the sofa on which Santana was resting peacefully and, without being entirely aware as to what she was doing, began to brush the hair away from Santana's forehead. Her fingers ran gently across Santana's hairline, pushing the dark twists of hair that fell to meet her eyebrows back. She pushed tangles of hair from her temple, watching while Santana's features creased at the motion.

"Are you always this tired?" Brittany asked gently, with a soft laugh underlying in her voice. Her fingers continued to take through her hair but Santana's nose was crinkling and her arms were beginning to lift from their position. Brittany pulled back rapidly and rushed to stumble to her feet, taking several steps backwards while Santana gradually began to wake, eyes blinking wide open.

"You're here." Santana had barely lifted her face from the warmth of the sofa when she spoke.

"I'm here." Brittany nodded while she watched Santana lift herself from the sofa and sit upright with a seemingly large amount of effort. "Your house is lovely."

"It's not my house."

"Your parent's house, then, is-"

"Wrong again." If Santana didn't puzzle her enough before, she was apparently intent on doing so now. "It's my father's house. Not my parent's."

"But you-"

"It's my father's house. He bought it and had my room designed especially as a nursery before I was born. Now, he's gone and we're still living in his house." Brittany instinctively walked over to the sofa and sat down beside Santana with no intention of missing a single word.

"W-where did he go?"

"He left. He found someone a little better than my mother and he left. To be clear on the matter, I live here and he doesn't." She said, teeth gritting together.

"Did your mother buy these?" Brittany pointed to the delicate paintings that surrounded them and the large television screen that was mounted on the wall.

"My father didn't leave her with nothing. That's what pre-nups are for, aren't they?" There was a hot, bitter taste in Santana's mouth. Just speaking about her father had left her tongue sour. "He used to pay for my tuition. A private school until I was twelve. A private school with rules and a uniform. I used to like it there."

"What happened?" Brittany asked, the urge to rest her fingers over Santana's knuckles becoming increasingly difficult to fend off.

"My father left. He left and I discovered that private schools don't like students that don't pay their fees." Santana relaxed her tightened jaw and turned to face Brittany, features softening slightly at first before changing into a smirk. "I've only seen you without your uniform once before." Ignoring her comment, fearing a terrible splutter in reply if she did otherwise, Brittany placed her hands in her lap.

"Do you mind if I a-ask you something?"

"You're welcome to."

"Why did you get your piercing?" Santana purposely slid her tongue against her teeth until Brittany heard the clink of metal before she answered.

"Because I knew it was going to piss my father off." She would have continued, had she not been interrupted by a long, involuntary yawn.

"Why are you always so tired?" Brittany questioned quietly, voice lowered to a mumble.

"My mother brings a different man home each night. It gets a little tiring." Santana murmured, tone growing colder with every word. Brittany sensed the battle that Santana was fighting to ignore the exhaustion of her body and leant forwards a little.

"I shouldn't have woken you up."

"Rest assured it wasn't just you that woke me up." Santana scowled, a gesture that meant any emotion she had shown previously had already been erased. She began to rest her body back against the sofa, cheek falling to the edge of the arm rest.

"D-don't you want to sleep in your room?"

"Considering that the guy my mother brought home last night is probably in there at this moment, no. No, I don't." She muttered, stomach squeezing at the thought of _him _in her room. In her house. She was so distracted by the unexpected fury at the thought that she hardly noticed Brittany sliding off the sofa to allow her legs to stretch out carefully. Her vision was growing hazy while her eyes began to close but her senses still registered the touch of Brittany's fingers against her forehead before she drifted into sleep.

Brittany couldn't explain why she pressed her lips to Santana's cheek as she slept, capturing warm skin into her mouth in the process. But nor could she explain the smile that formed when she heard the light, wonderful noises Santana was letting out in her sleep. Santana had told her something that she was quite sure she hadn't told anyone else before. She had trusted her, whether she realised it or not, with her words. The only sufficient way Brittany could thank her was by listening to the tiny mumbles that left her mouth while she slept. She decided to try something while she watched Santana's chest rise and fall repeatedly. Something that she would never even considered had Santana been awake and had she been thinking correctly. Thinking carefully. She moved forwards until her lips met Santana's forehead and placed a chaste kiss to her temple. Brittany's lips barely parted against Santana's forehead and instead brushed against her skin lightly. She drew back with reluctance to murmur quietly against her cheek before leaving as silently as possible.

"Goodnight, Santana. Sleep well."

* * *

Santana woke with a tremendous start. The sound of the door slamming against the hinges interrupted her comfortable sleep.

"Santana!" Her mother called out to her from the hallway. With a groan, she forced herself to climb off the sofa and sat up just in time to see her mother walk in through the door, a disapproving look on her face. "What have you been doing all day?"

"Sleeping." Santana mumbled.

"Did you go to school today?" Maribel asked, a sceptical look now gracing her face.

"Of course. Would I ever miss six hours of confinement with misguided assholes?" Her mother firstly grimaced at her language but then simply ignored it. There was no use in arguing with her daughter, whose words would surely twist into vicious sneers if she dared to even reprimand her.

"Papi wants to see you this weekend."

"I don't want to see him." Santana snarled.

"Santana, he's still your father."

"He stopped being that when he left." She grumbled, pressing her hand to the cheek that had been heated by the sofa she'd laid on earlier.

"Sometimes I wish you hadn't left Waisely." Her mother sighed, a fond memory of Santana beaming in a freshly ironed uniform, hands adjusting the pleat of her skirt, floating in her mind.

"You could always pay for me to return if you like." She said, anger rising to her skin.

"Are you going to do something productive today?"

"Fuck no. I'd rather be dead." Maribel jerked at the vicious tone of Santana's voice. But scolding her would only make matters worse. And who was she to scold her daughter for such things, when she knew herself that she had done worst things in more recent times?

"I'm going out." Santana announced suddenly, stepping into the hallway before her mother could stop her.

"Where?"

"Puck's place." Santana shrugged, her hand already twisting the handle of the door. Her mother looked as if there was still more to say but she gave in to inevitable defeat as her daughter left the house. She let out a tired sigh as the door began to close, capturing a final glimpse of her daughter before the door eventually swung shut.

* * *

"Puckerman!" The first thing Puck heard as he emerged out of the warm shower was the unmistakeable sound of Santana's voice echoing through his house. He snatched the nearest towel and rubbed his bare chest dry, letting any stray drops of water slide off his skin. He made the short journey from the bathroom into his bedroom and pulled a worn, slightly dishevelled pair of jeans on as Santana's footsteps charged upstairs. She burst into his room with an irritated expression, lips turned down into a scowl.

"Jesus Christ, Noah!" She exclaimed while he grinned, puffing his chest out like an excited child.

"Stay calm, Lopez." He said, reaching out for the beige shirt that lay in a crumpled heap beside his bed, concealed by layers of used underwear.

"You're disgusting." Santana told him, flopping down onto his bed while he scrubbed at his face with a rough towel.

"And you're always a pleasure to see." He replied, expecting to see a grin break onto her lips. When he was given only a silence in response, he gave her a quick pinch on the shoulder. "What's wrong with you? You look even more pissed off than usual." She squirmed as he pinched her skin and swatted at his bare arm.

"Daddy dearest wants me to see him this weekend." Puck did his best not to look surprised. The last weekend Santana had spent with her father, she'd returned with a pocket stuffed with money and a scowl that didn't leave her lips until Puck presented her with his half empty flask.

"Are you going to go?" He asked, though he already knew the answer she was going to throw him.

"No." He nodded in reply and pulled the shirt over his head before moving towards her slowly. She wore a blank expression, one that seemed to represent something alike to sadness. He pulled her towards him and looped an arm around her, tilting her head until it could rest on his shoulder.

"And how are things with your cheerleader?"

"She's not my cheerleader. And wasn't Fabray _your _cheerleader once upon a time?" Puck rolled his eyes in answer and nudged her with his foot.

"My question still stands, Lopez!" He said while she pushed his foot away from her with one hand.

"Put some socks on, Noah. She isn't as dense as the rest of them."

"Mind if I ask you something?"

"Be my guest." She murmured, hands resting gently on her stomach.

"Why haven't you given up yet? If it was anyone else you'd already have them fucked and forgotten by now." Santana allowed the words to sink in first before her mind thought of a sufficient answer.

"She's different."

"None of them are different, Santana." Puck said.

"She is." Santana retorted, one moment away from snapping at him without reason.

"Come on, Lopez. You can do better than this."

"It's not quite as easy as you'd think." She assured him, sitting up while Puck chuckled loudly.

"How is she different?"

"Everyone in this school, fuck, everyone in this _town_,is afraid."

"Afraid of what?" Puck asked, resting his head against the wall beside his bed.

"Everything. Anything."

"And her?"

"She's not afraid."


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, Brittany scooped her books into her arms without so much as a single syllable. She held them tightly to her chest and walked with Quinn and Kurt on her left side, following with a slightly slower pace than them. They came to a sudden halt in the hallway and Brittany began to fix her eyes on somewhere other than the floor beneath her to see why.

"You better stay quiet, Berry." Brittany felt her stomach jolt a little. The voice undoubtedly belonged to Santana, but it was not as confident as it usually was. Instead, it was hoarse and hissed.

"All I'm saying, Santana, is that nothing is going to end well if you resort to using such language every time." Rachel squawked, backing away as Santana leant towards her.

"And all I'm saying, Berry, is that maybe you should learn the fuck up for once in your entire, pathetic life."

"Please, Santana, we don't have to be so vicious! We can settle this maturely, if you would just let me-" She stopped as Santana's hand collided with the locker beside her, creating a masterful noise that almost paralysed Brittany's whole body while she watched them.

"If you mention my family again, I won't spend a second debating whether or not to miss next time." Santana spat ferociously, eyes focused on the hand that was still pressed against the locker. She drew her closed fist back quickly and, paying no attention to the small crowed that had formed around them, walked through the hallway until she disappeared from sight. Brittany followed as Kurt and Quinn shoved through the students that had circled around Rachel to reach her. There, they found Finn with a large arm wrapped around her waist and a cowering Rachel, eyes wide and unblinking.

"What happened?" Kurt asked, worriedly gripping Rachel's arm.

"Santana completely overreacted, that's what happened!" Rachel shrieked.

"What did you say to her?" Brittany's voice came quietly from behind Quinn, meek and unexpected.

"I simply suggested that perhaps the reason she feels the need to be so verbally abusive all of the time, is because she wasn't raised correctly." The word 'correctly' twisted a thick thorn into Brittany's skin, puncturing her flesh.

"Are you okay?" Finn asked, arms tightened around her. Rachel nodded against his tall figure, fingers still trembling against his forearms, while Kurt made a noticeable, irritated noise.

"She's not worth it." He muttered, casting his eyes to the end of the hallway. Brittany scratched her fingers against her palms to soothe the sudden itch there, hiding her tongue behind her teeth to avoid letting out the words that were twisting in her throat.

"I-I have to go." Though her mumble attracted four pairs of eyes to fall on her, any word that came from them seemed to evaporate before they reached her ears. She turned quickly and pushed through the fading crowd without being quite sure as to why her windpipe was squeezing painfully at the thought of them speaking in hushed, hateful whispers about Santana.

* * *

Her legs lashed out uncontrollably at the door of her car. Her shoes scratched against the thick metal while she plunged her legs further against the door in an attempt to eliminate the overpowering frustration freely speeding through her system. She stopped as her muscles eventually tired and climbed into her car to escape the quick, sudden pain in her legs. Santana pressed her hand against the window, pushing against it as if just the pressure of her hand was enough to shatter the glass beneath her fingers. But the sound of a quiet voice brought a temporary end to her fury.

"Why am I not surprised I found you here?" Brittany was stood on the other side of the passenger door, fingertips stretched to just touch the window. She pulled the door open and slowly sat down, head turned to face Santana.

"I don't know what you think this _is_, Pierce, but you don't find me. And you sure as fuck don't _comfort _me." Brittany jerked a little as Santana's hand returned to press against the transparent glass of the window.

"I heard what Rachel said."

"Oh, did you? How wonderful! Perhaps next time you won't be too late to join in." The spite in Santana's voice stung Brittany like a slice through her flesh, a threat to her body.

"I don't understand you. Y-you pursue me, you humiliate me. Then, you _admit _things to me. And now, n-n-now you-" The words trapped in her throat as Santana grabbed the edge of the scarlet v-neck of her uniform and pulled her forwards with a powerful fist.

"Why don't you just run along to the rest of them, Pierce? If you so dearly want nothing to do with me, why don't you prove it?" Instead of the clear terror that was supposed to fill her body, Brittany only sensed the warm scent of cinnamon on Santana's skin. She ground her teeth together, rows grinding against each other as she urged her thoughts to shake their layer of haze and become as clear as the orbs that were focused on her. Santana released the hand that was tightened around the thick material of Brittany's uniform but kept her face close to Brittany's own, their foreheads inches away from resting together.

"I don't want to run." Brittany rasped, breaths becoming increasingly heavy with each intake of air.

"You should." Santana answered with a hollow tone. She leant back and locked her hand on the door handle, fingers finally relaxed against the metal. She stepped out and gave the door a rough slam that was enough to slightly shake the entire car. She walked through the parking lot and back through the school doors while Brittany sat silently in the car and simply watched.

Watched and made no attempt to fight the twist of her chest.

* * *

The first thing she did as she entered the empty classroom was throw her fist against the chalkboard that faced rows of vacated desks. Santana's knuckles smeared with warm blood as she pulled her hand back, droplets swirling around her skin. She stepped back towards the door and dropped to her knees, brushing her hand over the one that was coated with crimson splotches of blood. Though the twinge in her knuckles was making it difficult for her to focus on anything other than the smarting pain of her hand, her head escaped the affliction from the collision of her fist with the chalkboard and invented a thought that brought a bout of stability to her volatile state.

Brittany didn't want to run.

She didn't want to find her way back to the rest of them, back to Fabray and Hummel and the others alike. She didn't want to run from Santana. Though the thought initially gave Santana some form of calmness in her resentment, it terrified her more than anything had before in her life. More than her father had when he splintered the framed pictures that sat in their house. More than finding her mother clutching an empty bottle of spirit, surrounded by a wet pool of liquor, had. Santana closed her opposite hand around the one that was still decorated with bloody splatters and ignored the constant throb of pain through her hand. She stayed there, positioned on her knees, wiping the blots of blood from her knuckles, until the rush of blood in her ears finally calmed and allowed her to think through the pounding of her head.

For the first time since her father had left, Santana allowed herself to be terrified beyond measure.


	9. Chapter 9

**This might be the last quick update for a while, as I have the last of my GCSE exams coming up in the next three weeks. I only have two subjects left to complete exams in, but five exams altogether, so I'll be focusing more on them and a little less on writing for the next few days or so. Thank you all for the reviews, I really am interested in seeing what you think might have happened in the last few chapters of what your explanations would be for Santana's behaviour. This chapter should be long enough for you until the next update, so enjoy!**

* * *

The sudden knock at the door was all that shook Santana awake. She gave out a yawn and winced suddenly at the throbbing her hand. She glanced down at her knuckles, still smeared with dried blood, and scrambled to find something to wrap them in. Lacking a makeshift bandage, she clambered out of the comfort of her bed and dragged herself downstairs, repeatedly blinking her eyes until they were opened wide enough for her to see everything. Once she was in the hallway, she threw her hand onto the handle and pulled the door open slowly. At the sight of the figure standing in front of her, she dismissed the breath that caught in her throat and gave a smirk.

"You don't listen to me, do you?" Brittany shook her head quietly and stepped past Santana so that she was inside the hallway.

"What happened to your hand?" She asked, eyes falling on the brown blots between her knuckles.

"Why? Do you want to help?" Santana said, voice halfway between a taunt and a sneer. Brittany refused to allow the sweat to break onto her skin and so took the opportunity to force her hands onto Santana's forearms. She took control of Santana's shoulders and pushed her backwards until she collided roughly with the door.

"You can't talk to me like that."

"Like what?" Santana mocked.

"Like I'm nothing! Like you can treat me however you want! There's a significant difference between you and I."

"And what's that?" Brittany swallowed as if to summon the words but they never came. Her thoughts disintegrated into specks that floated in her head. Every word in her windpipe simply vanished. Santana's eyes darkened while Brittany pinned her against the wall, fingers sunk into her skin. She slid her own hands up to cup Brittany's cheeks, tracing the soft pads of her thumbs over her clenched jaw line. She tilted her chin until the space between them was minimised, breaths passing between them quickly. Brittany brought her forehead to meet Santana's and drew her hands from her shoulders and instead took them to press against the fingers that were skimming her jaw.

"Weak." Santana murmured suddenly. She wriggled out of Brittany's grasp and walked into the longue, regardless of Brittany's fingers reaching desperately for her wrist.

"Fuck, Lopez." Brittany spat as she followed her through.

"Why are you here? I told you this morning that I didn't need you finding me."

"Then what the _fuck_ do you want, Santana?" She growled, face hardening suddenly. "Tell me, because I'm just dying to know what exactly it is you'd like with me."

"Just because your entire pride stands on being the head cheerleader, doesn't mean I give a fuck about your status. And it certainly doesn't mean that I'm going to start obeying you."

"Stop playing with me. I'm not a toy that you can just drop when I start to bore you." Brittany bit in return.

"And what do you think you are? Something different?" Santana tugged at the thin hem of her vest.

"That's exactly what you told me before."

"Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps you are just like the rest of them. I'll let you know once I've had you screaming like a-" She began, but her words disappeared as Brittany's lips met hers. A quiet noise of surprise left Santana's mouth and her body temporarily stilled as Brittany's mouth pressed against hers. She twisted her hands firmly into Brittany's hair and collected clumps of blonde strands into her palms, burying her fingers into her hair. Brittany pressed her hand softly to the small of Santana's back and arched forwards until their bodies slid together, limbs fitting together as they were supposed to. Santana pushed Brittany backwards until she tripped and stumbled onto the sofa, back hitting the leather and arms flying into the air clumsily. Santana followed and climbed onto the sofa, swinging each leg on either side of Brittany until she was completely leant over her, hands curling into her sides. She tipped her head down until their lips pressed together again, warm and feverish against one another. Santana slipped her tongue out of her mouth and ran it along Brittany's lower lip, a sudden yearning for more of Brittany overwhelming her.

Brittany walked her fingers across Santana's arms until she reached her thin shoulder blades, tracing invisible circles there as goose bumps raced down her neck. She felt Santana's hands travel to pull at the bottom of her shirt, fingers curled up at the loose fabric while her lips dropped to work at Brittany's chin. While she teased feathery kisses along her jaw line, Brittany let out a whispery noise that was a combination of a moan and a sound of delight. She tensed slightly as Santana's hands slid beneath her shirt and lay against her warm skin, but she was muted by Santana taking her lower lip between her teeth.

Though the world had seemingly stilled around her, the strong vibration of Brittany's phone in her pocket froze her. Santana pulled away and gave her an amused look.

"I sincerely hope you're going to answer. We wouldn't want to worry Hummel or Fabray, would we?" Brittany reached her hands out to pull Santana back into a rough kiss but Santana was already leaning back, mouth forming a familiar smirk. "Are you quite sure you want to do that? With your dearest friends worrying about you so?"

"Santana-" She stopped as Santana leant downwards and pressed her mouth to her throat, leaving a soft kiss there as Brittany willed herself to ignore the constant buzz of her phone. The kiss to her throat soon grew rough, until Santana's teeth were tugging at the skin, biting down masterfully there.

"If you don't answer, I will." Santana warned, her voice lacking in a playful tone. She dug her hand into Brittany's pocket before the blonde could reach it and pulled the phone out, taking a moment to examine it in her palm and purse her lips.

"So, it _is _Hummel! Oddly enough, I'm not too surprised." She weighed the phone in her hand before pressing it to her ear. "Hello to you too, Hummel. Your voice is as pleasant on the phone as it is in person." Brittany lunged forwards and grabbed at Santana's wrists, face twisting into a look of despair as she reached for the phone. She saw Santana's eyebrows rise slightly as Kurt apparently answered her.

"I'm afraid Brittany doesn't have the time to speak at the moment, but if you call a little later, I have no doubt you can immerse yourselves in conversation then." She took the phone from her ear and dropped it into Brittany's waiting hands, her grin growing at the irritation inked on Brittany's face.

"What the fuck, Lopez?" Brittany slid from beneath Santana to sit against one of the silver cushions perched on the sofa.

"Language isn't becoming on you, Pierce." Brittany stood from the sofa and made a beeline for the door. She walked into the hallway and reached the front door with no intention of turning back. But the hands that fell on her waist sent a surge through her skin. "Don't worry yourself, Brittany. I'm sure Hummel didn't mind listening." If she were to turn around, the resentment would surely defeat her and hijack her words. So, she opened the door in front of her and slammed it with the exact same speed.

Brittany closed her eyes and accepting the fury that was streaming through her body.

She shut her eyes and finally accepted the effect that Santana could have on her.

* * *

School wasn't something that Brittany particularly longed for when her mother gently shook her awake the next morning. She looked down at her hands, clamped around her sheets and soaked with sweat, and fell back onto her bed with a thud. Her face had been warmed by pressing her face closely to her pillow as she slept, wrapping her sheets around her as if they would stop the perspiration of her body. She vaguely remembered bolting awake in the early hours, panting heavily and fighting for breath. Though it wasn't a nightmare she'd suddenly woken from. It was the thought of Santana's fingers tangling into her hair, her body pressing against hers and lips marking her. In a hazy mix of memory and imagination, she pressed her forefinger to her throat as if she could still feel Santana's lips there, warm and definite. Brittany leapt out of bed and rushed towards the mirror with her hands still concealing her throat, terrified of what might reflect back at her if she removed them. She gently lowered her hand gnawed the inner side of her cheek while the reflection did not disappoint her. Sunlight sliced through the mirror, making it difficult for her to see clearly, but the messy blotch on her skin was enough. She defied the growl in her stomach that was pleading to be fed and threw on her fresh uniform as quickly as possible. She placed her hand against her throat to disguise the splatter there and demanded her mind to aid her.

Santana had marked her as though she belonged to her and her alone.

And there was nothing she could do.

* * *

Brittany gave out a hushed noise of joy when she arrived at school and the presence of Santana was nowhere to be found. Kurt offered a puzzled look as she slid into her seat a few places away from him in Biology but only gave him a nod in return, aware that he would think nothing of the mark on her neck and, if he did, he would assume that the embedded splotch on her skin was the work of a simple football player.

"Where's Quinn?" Brittany asked him.

"Didn't feel very well. She's taking the day off." Kurt said, fingers styling his coiffed hair. Brittany nodded but said nothing else, turning to the questions printed onto the papers in her hands. She would have been happy to work in the odd silence, had Kurt not unexpectedly broken it with a nervous mumble. "I called you yesterday." Brittany almost quaked at his words. "And_ Lopez_ picked up." She urged her mouth to stay frozen shut, sewed together to avoid falling open as the words scrambled around in her mind.

"W-we're working on a project together in English." Although Santana even attending the lesson was a rarity in itself, it seemed to relax Kurt's expression. The eyebrows that had knitted together then only lifted in surprise.

"You're working on a project with _her._" He commented, rather than asked. She went to speak but was distracted by the welcome interruption of Rachel.

"You two! We have to talk about Sectionals! I have a few radical ideas to get the conversation going." She yelped in her perfectly ecstatic tone. She began to reel off an endless list of song choices while Brittany feigned an express of interest. But her thoughts were not with them. Instead, they were frantically creating exaggerated consequences for the purple, bruise-like formation on her neck. She was grateful when the bell finally rang out, setting her free from the sudden heat of the classroom. She walked in the opposite direction to a distracted Kurt and Rachel and plodded through the hallway. She paused at the door of a vacated classroom that was creaked open a little. No sooner than her eyes settled on the figure that was sat cramped at one of the many desks in there than the figure was on their feet, pulling an unwilling Brittany into the classroom with a steady arm. The door clicked shut until it was only them.

Santana stepped forwards and pushed her fingers to the area of Brittany's neck that was painted with dark colours.

"What have you been telling people about _this_?" Brittany was sure that Santana would be able to feel the lump against her fingers as she pressed them lightly to her throat.

"Nothing." She breathed, voice heavy with anger.

"Why? Are you ashamed that I marked you?" Santana provoked, breath nearing Brittany's shaded throat. "Because _I_ marked you, Pierce. No one else." She said, tone caught between a warning and a whisper. She brought her fingers away from Brittany's neck and dropped them by her waist.

"I am not your plaything, Santana." Brittany growled, stomach tensing and curling.

"I never said you were." But Santana leant forwards until her lips were almost touching the iced skin of Brittany's cheek. "But you're mine." Brittany forced herself to give a reply that was emotionless, dry and empty.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" She took Santana's hand into her palm, focusing her mind on the flecks of skin that had peeled from her knuckles as her wounds began to heal.

"Frustration got the better of me." She mumbled, rapidly covering the gashes with her free hand.

"Do you always have to behave like such an asshole?"

"Yes, because whether you like it or not, Princess, it's something I'd rather not change." Santana scowled in answer.

"You're not going to stop, are you?" Brittany said, the thick beat of her heart fast and heavy.

"Would you mind if I asked you something?" Santana toyed, running her tongue across her parted lips with intent. "How long do you think you can last with such destruction?" Brittany felt as if her whole body had come to a complete stop, chained by Santana's question. Santana had been quietly gesturing to the healing of her damaged hand as she spoke, but Brittany was quite sure that physical destruction alone didn't begin to cover the things she meant.

"I don't want anything to do with your sick competitions." Brittany snapped, referring to Santana's taunting question. She walked through the door and escaped the classroom, escaped the words that had left her in a mist of confusion and desire. She kept walking until she finally reached the class that was sure to house the familiarity of her friends. Once there, the throbbing that her head had gained from her conversation with Santana subsided along with the formerly unbearable pounding of her heart inside her chest. But even though her body had tricked into believing she was calm, her mind was uncontrollable.

Santana made her thoughts twist until they were unrecognisable. Gone were the thoughts that consisted of her popularity and her status, replaced with a world that didn't make sense to her. A world she was no longer taught to obey the rules and follow everyone else and their ways of thinking. Gone was the world where she could pretend that pressing her lips to those of a member of the football team made her happier than anything else.

The things that she had been taught to believe, that her life would depend on her reputation, that a sufficient reputation would only form from becoming a cheerleader with command of others and sitting at the top of the hierarchy, no longer existed.

The world that she had been so safe in before, so sure of, had stopped making sense.


	10. Chapter 10

**Just a short chapter for now, as I'm still focusing on my exams, but hopefully you'll see a more gentle scene between Santana and Brittany in this one! **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"_He left."_

Santana still remembered the shattered voice of her mother when she woke to the sound of a powerful cry, muffled by the walls of the house. Instead of the warm arms of her father enveloping in a hug as he always would after she returned from Waisely for the holidays, she only felt a cold rush run through her at the strangled cry of her mother. She remembered leaping out of bed, racing into her parent's room to find nothing. Nothing but the remains of her father's wardrobe and a glistening, golden ring that lay buried into the thick carpet.

"Lopez! Are you deaf?" Santana was brought out of her memory by Puck's yell, his fingers snapping in her face.

"What?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for the last ten minutes!" He said, handing her the fresh flask. They sat in his room, window opened to allow the warmth inside and music leaving through the mesh of the speakers.

"Noah?" She said while he finished his mouthful of liquor.

"Hm?"

"Do you ever wonder if there's more?" He lifted his head from its resting point against one of his torn pillows.

"More?" Santana nodded as she took the drink to her lips, letting the liquid dance in her mouth.

"Something other than this." She said, placing the flask back on the floor slowly.

"Are you really complaining, Lopez? Look at us! How could there be more?" Puck claimed, puzzled by her suggestion.

"There must be something. Something different to spending each day like this."

"I think the drink is having a negative effect on you, Santana." He toyed, a scoff leaving his mouth. "We have everything we could possibly want. And you want more?"

"Forget it. It was just something I thought about once."

"Once?" Puck questioned, laying back down onto his bed while Santana remained cross-legged on the floor.

"It doesn't matter. Now, what was it you were going to tell me?"

* * *

She hadn't planned to arrive home in such an awful state, legs weak and as unstable as her mind. But nor had she expected to see her mother sitting on the sofa, patiently awaiting her arrival.

"Where have you been?"

"Does it matter?" Santana shrugged, words slurred. She hoped her mother wouldn't notice. Or care.

The latter was the preferable of the two.

"Yes! Santana, you are my daughter." Maribel scolded while Santana chuckled.

"Am I? I thought you actually had to be around for me to be classed as that." Her mother suddenly stood up, enraged by Santana's biting slur.

"How dare you? I am working to keep these things for us! To keep this damn house!" She cried, furious with her daughter's sheer audacity.

"No, you're working to escape me. Because you can't stand that you somehow produced a daughter that doesn't obey you." Santana jeered, words twisting into her mother's chest like a knife. "No wonder father left you."

It was the slap across her face that cured her paralysed nerve cells. It stung her skin and coloured her face a brilliant scarlet. She reeled from the contact and brought her hand to her face, soothing the agitated flesh.

"You made me do that, Santana. You and you alone. When are you going to learn? You are a child! A child and nothing else!"

"What did you think was going to happen when he left? Did you think we could possibly become a happy, little family again?" Santana fired back, spurred on by the sting of her cheek.

"Santana, you will not speak ill of your father."

"When are you going to realise that he's _gone_? He's gone and he's not coming back! No matter how many guys you fuck, he's never going to be jealous because he's never going to _know_."

"Why are you like this? We gave you everything you ever wanted! And you threw it back in our faces!" Maribel said sharply, refusing to sink to the level that Santana was delivering her tirade from.

"Only you didn't give me everything, did you? You forgot one key detail."

"What's that?"

"Normality! I was born with a silver spoon shoved down my fucking throat and I never wanted it. I never wanted any of it! You sent me to a boarding school from the second I was able to walk." Santana seethed, rage filling her veins. She gave her mother a final, pitiful look before racing upstairs, barricading herself in her room. She sunk to the floor and clapped her hand over her mouth to stop any noise from leaving, fearful of the way her body might respond to the rage in her mind.

She imagined herself to be in a world where she was raised without being told how to behave, what was acceptable in the company of others and what was not.

She imagined herself to be in a place where nothing could touch her.

* * *

Santana was not one for wallowing in self-pity. By the time the morning sunlight had cracked through her window the next morning, she was pulling herself down the stairs, on her way to school to find a way to waste the day. She was peaceful there, lying on the outer bleachers, until a shadow interrupted her.

"Ah, Fabray. To what do I owe the honour?" Quinn gave a huff of air as she confronted Santana, where Santana lay against the bleachers with her head tilted to face the sun.

"Why have you made it your mission to disrupt us? You've never so much as looked at us before."

"That would be because most of you have a pole shoved so far up your ass, I doubt you'd notice if I looked at you." Santana smiled, closing her eyes again as Quinn scoffed.

"Don't you realise the reputation that you turning up to our practices gives us?"

"I wasn't aware someone who thought so highly of themselves required a reputation." Santana said, eyes meeting Quinn's empty ones.

"Oh, don't play naive, Lopez. You and I both know that this entire school is based on reputations."

"As charming as you are, Quinn, I'd rather be left alone."

"We may not like each other, Santana, but we understand each other. So, understand me and realise that what you're doing is doing nothing for either of us." Santana sat up and sighed heavily, hand running through her thick hair in doing so.

"I'd forgotten your reputation was tarnished two years ago, Lucy. I'd hate to see it happen again." Santana said before she stood up and walked down the warmed bleacher steps while Quinn simply stared after her.

She headed straight for Brittany, watching as she dropped delicately from the shoulders of a boy who hardly paid attention to Santana out of nothing more than fear as she walked towards them with a slight grin.

"Santana?" Brittany said as she caught sight of her standing behind her with an amused expression.

"And good morning to you, too." She smiled with a wry grin that was so magnetic, Brittany felt the shivers tickle her skin. "I want to go on a date with you."

"You asked me yesterday how I long I could last with destruction, didn't you?" Brittany said, the humiliation Santana had left her with yesterday still raw. "Not long enough for a date."

"Just let me show you something."

"What could you possibly have to show me?" Brittany laughed. Santana's actions two days ago, where she had purposely embarrassed her to Kurt and where she had frustrated her even further than before, were still scratched into her skin.

"Trust me." Santana grabbed her by the wrist roughly and led her b the hand across the field until they eventually reached the rough gravel of the parking lot. There, she continued to escort Brittany until they were at her car, where she climbed onto the hood and pulled Brittany up with a surprisingly supportive arm for her to grip onto. She leant back against the dusty windshield and gestured for Brittany do the same, through Brittany was breathing rapidly at the force of having been pulled across the whole field.

"Look." Santana said, and Brittany did as she said swiftly. Santana lifted her forefinger and her thumb and brought them closely together, but just stopped them from touching. Through the gap, Brittany could see a small collection of people, students, between her fingers. As if Santana was holding them all in her finger so simply.

"Look at them. Look how similar they are." Santana murmured, pointing to the way she could collect almost the entire school in her palms. "You're not."

"Is that...is that what you wanted to show me?" Brittany asked, almost nervously.

"Yes." She answered softly, and that was when Brittany noticed the scarlet welt that had risen on her jaw. She looked at the aggressive wheal and forced herself to ask a question that did not require an answer.

"You didn't do that to yourself, did you?" Santana seemed to battle with herself for a moment before swallowing, eyes blank.

"No." She muttered, hand flying up protectively to cover the rise on her jaw. "If none of this existed, if there were no labels, no one to impress, do you think you'd act differently?"

"Would you?" Brittany asked instead of answering, startled by the wonder in Santana's voice.

"If none of this mattered? Maybe. I don't abide to it anyway, so what could I do differently?"

"You don't like acting like this, do you?"

"Acting like what?"

"Like you don't care about anything." Brittany said in a lowered voice, eyes downcast as she spoke. Santana gave her a glaring look before answering.

"It's just like I said, what could I possibly do differently?" Santana dropped the sudden growl in her voice and continued. "What is it that you're so afraid of, Brittany?"

"What?"

"You're afraid of something." Santana told her, leaning in closer until her lips were tickling Brittany's ear.

"But what makes you think that?"

"Because I'm quite certain that if I kissed you right now, you'd pull away before our lips even grazed." Santana said, the corner of her eye falling on the crowd that gathered together not too far from them. "Why is that?"

"You're wrong. I'm not afraid of them. And I'm not afraid of _you._"

"I'd be delighted to see you prove that." Brittany was no longer prepared to be challenged nor taunted by Santana. In a bout of annoyance and desire, she grabbed both of her wrists and pulled her forwards, until their noses were just touching and their breaths were warm on each other's lips.

"I don't have to prove anything to you." She murmured, lifting her hand to tenderly touch the bruise that was blooming on Santana's jaw. "But if you'd like me to, I suppose I could."

"And how could you do that?" Santana asked, defying the growing temptation to press her lips to the hand against her jaw.

"By going on a date with you."


	11. Chapter 11

**I was able to write this chapter a lot quicker than I expected! I actually got it finished this morning, as I had time before I had to start studying again, but I had wonderful feedback on the last chapter, so here it is! Chapter 11. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

She was silent as she pressed her fingers to the door. Each breath in her throat felt unnaturally thick and rapid. She made herself let out a heavy breath in order to avoid choking on an intake of air. She was startled into jumping backwards as the door swung open from the other side, and Santana emerged with an exhausted expression, jaw working before she'd even opened her mouth.

"So, you did turn up." She said dryly.

"You thought I wouldn't?" Brittany asked, observing the risen weal on Santana's lower cheek.

"Given my nature, no. I didn't think you would." Santana said. She shut the door behind her and walked the door of her car while Brittany followed. The paint on one of the doors was a little scratched from Santana's attack on it but, other than that, the car was hardly in a terrible condition. As soon as Brittany had stepped into the car, Santana kicked the gear into motion. It woke to life with a great rumble in the engine, a sign that perhaps Santana had slight difficulty in taking care of the machinery. Something caught Brittany's eyes as Santana drove with not even the faintest attempt to speak. She extended her hand to reach for the stereo but collected only empty air.

"Where is your stereo?" Santana gripped her hands tighter around the wheel, until her knuckles were almost a pale white.

"I ripped it out." She mumbled. Though it was not an entirely satisfactory answer for Brittany, she didn't doubt that it was the most she was going to get. She dropped her head to rest against the glass of the window and watched as the scenery sped past her in a complete blur, leaving countless streets and blocks of houses behind them. She hadn't realised they'd even been travelling too far when they car came to a grinding stop, the tires dragging along the ground with a noise that alerted Brittany's ears, distracting her from her focus on the scenery they had passed.

"We're here." Santana said, before getting out of the car herself.

Brittany did the same, but she couldn't help the sense of puzzlement she immediately received at the area.

"Here?" She questioned, feet sinking into the long, thin grass beneath her. Santana had parked just a few metres from a field that seemed to stretch on as far as the eye could see. In the absence of an answer, Brittany watched while Santana plodded her feet through the patches of grass, only resting when she reached a spot where there was something of a dip in the ground. On impulse, Brittany walked to where Santana had dropped onto the warm grass, legs stretched out in front of her.

"I like it here." Santana said quietly, offering her attention only to the group of dandelions beside her hand.

"Do you come here a lot?" Brittany asked, sitting down beside Santana with care.

"Sometimes. It's where my father used to take me. Whenever I came home from Waisely, the first thing he'd do was bring me here. He used to point out the different types of flowers to me." She murmured, fingers collecting the clump of ochre dandelions. Brittany held back a sharp breath, daring herself not to question the situation, when Santana was showing her such an impossibly rare sign of peace.

"Then w-what?"

"When he left, I stopped coming altogether. It just became another thing for me to hate. Another thing to destroy." She continued to focus her eyes on the small collection of dandelions in her palm. The idea of Santana's destruction unnerved Brittany, making her throat seize until she struggled to get even a simple breath out.

"That's...that's why you lash out." Brittany paused for a moment, as if to consider a sudden idea. "Your temper."

"What of it?" Santana scoffed.

"It's from him." Santana briefly drew her focus from the dandelions in her hand.

"Surprised?" She turned to Brittany again, the ghost of a smirk settled on her lips. "But my desire to destroy every good thing in my life? I don't think I get that from him." Santana said, but without a sneer in her tone. Only a flatness that left Brittany's skin, the flesh that was warm in the fading sunlight just a few moments ago, iced with shivers. With an initial hesitation, Brittany let her hand fall onto Santana's.

Emboldened by Santana's evident reluctance to snatch her hand from hers immediately, she threaded their fingers together. She felt a smile creep onto her lips as Santana's skin warmed hers.

"You don't talk like this at school." Brittany said, an attempt to distract Santana from something other than their joined hands.

"With those who'd like nothing more than to see me collapse completely?" Santana laughed, though it lacked in harshness. Only a sense of resentment registered in her laughter.

"But with me?"

"I told you. You're different." Santana replied, increasing the lock of her hand with Brittany's.

"How do you know that?" She asked, eyes now on the spliced splatters of sunlight that had begun to fade as the air grew colder around them.

"Because I remember the first day I saw you." Santana allowed a slight smile before going on. "It was the first day I joined this place, after my fees to Waisely effectively stopped being paid. You were standing with Fabray, perhaps Hummel, and I remember Karofsky giving me a wonderful, welcome shove into a locker. I remember them laughing, their mouths tugging into terrible, open grins, but not you. You didn't laugh. You just watched me. I didn't forget you." Brittany tangled her fingers further with Santana's, spurred on by the memory. "But then I found the ability to fuck up anything that even touched me, and none of you even dared to look at me after that." Brittany spent a few seconds studying the flickers behind Santana's eyes, the flecks that contained hints of a colour beyond their simple mahogany. A cloudy memory of watching a girl, no taller than herself, falling to her knees in the hallway a few years ago conjured itself up in her mind. Brittany caught the developing bruise on Santana's jaw at an angle and wondered momentarily if her desire to destroy any good thing for her stemmed from a need for control.

Control that would protect her from anything and anyone.

Instinctively, Brittany did the only thing she found possible and pressed her lips to Santana's bruise. When Santana didn't jerk at the contact, she moved slightly further forwards and pressed a kiss to her lips. Unlike before, the kiss was not feverish or rough. It was simple, as if they were barely touching one another.

"Let me." Brittany whispered, rupturing the silence that had slipped into the atmosphere as their fingers knotted tighter together. She shifted herself until she was knelt over Santana, her legs on either side of Santana's hips. Without breaking their lips apart, she pressed down until Santana's back landed on the grass gently.

And in kissing Santana, with their trembling hands locked together to the point of pain, Brittany found that all they needed was time. All _Santana_ needed was time. Time for someone to notice her for other than the reasons she created herself. Time to learn.

If she allowed it, Brittany would give her all the time in the world.

Though reluctance was clawing at her, the sunlight around them had vanished completely, replaced with a blanket of darkness, and Brittany was aware that she would have to break away from Santana's lips at one point or another. She pulled away and offered an apologetic smile, lips then resting lightly on the tip of Santana's nose.

"I have to go." She said, breaking from the contact between them to clamber off Santana, but leaving their fingers entwined. Santana nodded and stood up, eyes widening at the lack of the sun in the skies above them. She walked back through the field, with Brittany walking at the same pace beside her, and eventually reached her car. She let Brittany in before getting in herself, turning her keys as soon as the door was closed.

Brittany forced herself to keep her mouth closed as Santana drove, terrified that had it opened, the ideas that were slowly settling in her mind would have spilled out. That if Santana needed time, then Brittany would give it to her. She would give it to her and it still wouldn't be enough. She glanced over at Santana and allowed one word to dominate her every thought.

Time.

* * *

Brittany stepped into her house, careful to stay quiet as her family were still most likely asleep, with her having told them that was spending the night at Quinn's house. She'd found it surprisingly easy to lie to them, handing them fabricated words as if it was the simplest thing in the world. She hurried to her room as quietly as she could manage, careful not to step on the floorboards that were prone to squeaking. She made it into her room without alerting anyone and let out a heavy huff of relief. She curled up into the familiar sheets of her bed and cast her thoughts to the stirring in her chest at the lacing of her fingers with Santana's so easily.

And, for the first time in weeks, she slept soundly.

But the moment she arrived at school the next morning, she was only greeted with Quinn's usual beam. To say the absence of Santana twisted her stomach was an understatement at the least.

"And I swear, if Puckerman tries to come near me again, I'll have him-" Quinn paused when she noticed that Brittany was not engrossed in her story, but lost in a haze. "Brittany?"

"Oh. Sorry, Quinn. I must be distracted."

"With what?" Quinn asked, face scrunched up into an expression of confusion.

"Just Glee club and the Cheerios. Things like that." She felt her chest loosen as Quinn accepted her explanation and continued to speak about things that had no effect on her anymore. Brittany walked with Quinn at her side, occasionally smiling to show she was following the words that Quinn was constantly spinning out, but her pulse was heavy beneath her wrist. There was not often a morning these days where she didn't find Santana falling into step with her, even if it was merely to irritate her. She walked with Quinn until they reached English, where they took their mandatory seats while Mercedes and Tina, sat in front of them as they always were, turned to join in on their conversation. Or rather, to join in on pretending to be intrigued by Quinn's story. Brittany sat with her face permanently twisted into a grin, while the worry that had inhabited the pit of her stomach began to spread through her, causing her to gnaw the insides of her cheeks so as not to let any of them know the thoughts that were hammering in her head. She sat, without participating in their conversation, watching as her friends continued to speak with such levels of excitement, they were almost able to drown out the pounding in her head. It was only when the door was kicked open with such a tremendous force, it attracted the attention of even Miss Talbot, that Brittany even realised where she was. Audible gasps left the mouths of both Quinn and Tina as Santana appeared through the door, eyes even more tired than usual and both of her hands completely blanketed with gashes and rapidly growing wounds.

"Santana Lopez?" Their teacher asked incredulously.

"At your service." She snarled, still standing beside the door with palms that were wet with blood pressed to the handle.

"Well, this is a first." Miss Talbot commented, unaware of the hatred burning so powerfully in Santana's eyes.

"And a last, if they're going to look at me like that." Santana threatened, eyes trained on the open jaws of the students in front of her. Brittany supposed that this was the moment in which Miss Talbot finally noticed the smudges of blood on Santana's hands, because her pupils dilated at the exact moment Santana slid her hands from the door handle and walked back out of the room, the door making the same deafening noise it had when she'd first walked in.

As her impulses kicked in without her request, Brittany stood from the desk, ignoring the calls for her name from Quinn and Mercedes alike, and followed Santana's path out of the room. Miss Talbot and the whole room alike were in too much of a state of awe and confusion to call her out on walking from the classroom, and she left without so much as the room, aside from Quinn, Tina and Mercedes, even noticing.

"Santana!" Brittany called out, watching while Santana headed straight for the bathroom. She stopped at the sound of Brittany's voice, and sank her teeth into her lip, determined not to allow even the sound of Brittany to calm her. But Brittany was beside her before she could stop her, she was beside her and looking at her with those pleading eyes and God, why did she have to be so damn _intent _on looking at her as if she was something more than she really is?

"Brittany, please just...just don't." Santana pleaded, voice far quieter than it was than when she'd entered the classroom.

"Santana?" Brittany murmured faintly, terrified at the sight of her impaired hands. She stretched her hand out as though to catch Santana's fingers in hers, just like she had in the field, but Santana reeled from her, eyes narrowed and furious.

"Get the _fuck _off me." She warned before turning her back, continuing her path to the bathroom.

Brittany stood alone in the hallway, fingers dotted with dabbles of blood from where they had touched Santana's palm, her stomach clenching with both uneasiness and worry. But she could only focus on one thing as she swallowed to rid the ache in her throat.

Santana's eyes had lost the wonderful splashes of colour that crept through their exterior.


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm afraid it's just a short chapter for now, but good news, I finish the last of my exams next week! A few of you asked where I get the inspiration for my Santana from, and I think it's a mix of things, to be honest. The hostility is inspired a little by Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games, and the way she speaks is just the way I'd imagine her to act when I think of my version of her in my head, really. **

**Anyway, here's Chapter 12!**

* * *

He wasn't supposed to have been there.

He wasn't supposed to have been just waiting, sitting so calmly, at the table almost as soon as she woke up.

"Buenos días, Santana." She'd been standing in the kitchen for no longer than a few seconds when the rage began to burst inwardly.

"What the fuck?" She cursed, eyes ablaze with a fresh wave of anger.

"Hija, please, calm down." Her father said, using the same tone he would for her when she was little older than a child. Only, he hadn't been there since she was a child. Further rage began to scratch at the skin of her neck, leaving it to become a definite crimson shade.

"Where is mami?"

"Gone for work. Santana, please-"

"Shut up! God, are you a complete idiot? What the fuck are you doing here?" Santana cried, furious with the man that was sat so calmly, so simply, at their breakfast table. At _her _breakfast table. "How did you even get in?

"Oh, hija. Do you forget that I was the one who had this house built?" He smiled coldly.

"I forgot that when you walked out, _daddy_."

"Don't patronise me, Santana. It doesn't bode well for you."

"What do you want?" She snapped quickly.

"I told your mother I wanted to see you over the weekend." Her father shared the same inexplicably dark eyes as Santana's, ones that seemed to lead only to the golden splashes inside them.

"Well, the weekend had already been. So, father, why don't you tell me what the fuck you're doing here?" She growled, cheeks flaming under her father's grating laughter.

"I just want to talk with you, hija."

"You lost that opportunity when you left." She snarled, the burning in her chest repeatedly growing more powerful with every second her father spent in the room.

"You've grown so much, Santana." He observed.

"Did you think I was going to wait around for you? I apologise."

"You were never this hostile when you were younger." Something about his comment infuriated the flame that was already lit inside Santana's chest. She struck out at the glass of orange juice that sat close to her father's open palm on the table, sending it towards the wall, where it shattered into tiny fragments of glass. Shards landed at her feet, across the floor, almost landing in her hands as though they were there for her to catch before they scattered to the ground.

"Get out."

"Santana, if you would just-"

"Get out! Get the fuck _out_!" She cried, dropping her father's gaze and focusing on the miniature splinters of glass that had buried themselves under her feet. Finally, her father seemed to realise the extent of her rage and hurried out of the kitchen, straight past her. She stayed watching the thin pieces of glass settle around her feet until she heard the brief, final close of the door.

Then, and only then, she allowed control to escape from her.

She turned to the closest wall, breaths shallow in her throat, and smashed her fist against it, flecks of dry wall paint mixing with blots of blood as groaned in agony. She continued to pound her fist against the white of the wall until her vision failed her, and she could see only a darkness when she opened her eyes. She fell back to counter opposite the bloodied wall and slid down against it, pressing her palms to her forehead as if to bring an end to the memories that her father's appearance had brought to her.

She wrapped her arms around herself and pretended that the blood gathering in her palm didn't exist, focusing on only the thoughts that had the ability to calm her. She squeezed her eyes shut until the prickling in her hands was subdued, no longer important. She let her throbbing thoughts settle on Brittany, to the only good thing that had entered her life after the point where almost everything felt like a threat, a point for destruction.

But the thoughts fell apart into a clump of unimportance once a realisation slipped in.

Sooner or later, Santana would destroy any good thing that dared to touch her life.

* * *

She didn't allow herself even a single word until she was home. Until she had stormed out of her car and thrown open the door of her house, leaving an imprint of dried blood on its handle. She slammed it shut with a forceful kick before walking into the lounge and subsequently sinking to her knees. Santana let her hands drop to the floor, careless to the stains they would leave on the rough carpet, and hung her head. She wanted to search for all that was wrong with her, all that had buried itself into her, and tear it out. She remained, comforting herself by ignoring the constriction of her body, until she heard the twist of the door handle, the opening of the unlocked door. She scrambled upwards, spinning to find warm, cerulean eyes on her.

"Santana." Brittany said, taking in her dishevelled appearance, horror temporarily registering in her widened eyes. "W-what-"

"Get out. Please, just get _out_." Santana's voice was a poor imitation of a sneer but she no longer had the strength to carry out even a faint snarl.

"No. I'm not going anywhere." Brittany said firmly, feet almost rooted to the ground.

"Why? Can't you see how much easier it would be if you weren't here?" Instead of an answer, Brittany pressed her fingers to Santana's forearm gently, like she was afraid that she would break.

But that it was all it took.

The smallest of gestures was enough to shatter Santana's resolve completely. Santana collapsed straight into Brittany's body, burying her face into the warmth of Brittany's neck. She fell into Brittany with such strength, that Brittany felt herself stumble backwards in an attempt to stabilise both of them. She crashed to the floor along with Santana, wrapped around her body tightly, and landed with a stifled groan. She pulled Santana further against her, wrapping her arms around her before leaving one hand free to brush the strands from her forehead.

"Santana?" She began, but Santana only gave a faint whimper into the crook of her neck in reply, curling her fingers into the centre of Brittany's back. "What happened?" She murmured into Santana's hair, the scent of vanilla clear in her sense as her lips met the crown of Santana's head.

"Him." Santana said, words muffled by Brittany's neck. It only took the syllable for Brittany to understand her, to understand why it was necessary for them to crash together until their arms tangled messily around one another. "He turned up, Brittany. He fucking turned up and expected his daughter to fall into his arms." Santana tightened the arms that met around Brittany's back as she mumbled, despair pooling in the bottom of her stomach.

"It's okay, it's okay. Just stay quiet, now." She whispered, puzzled as to how Santana could possibly feel so weak in her arms. "I have you." She promised, eyes closing shut as she pressed a kiss to Santana's cold forehead. She sat further forwards and pulled Santana closer into her lap, until she could rest her head against the protective barrier of her chest. Santana leant against the spot that Brittany pulled her into, ear falling to press against her chest, so she could almost hear the density of the heartbeat slipping through Brittany's ribcage.

"Don't go." Santana managed, though her body was numbing as she came close to falling asleep in the warm arms that were held around her protectively.

"No, I'll stay." Brittany whispered back. "I'll stay with you." She thought she heard Santana mumble a word in answer, but when she looked down, she found only Santana's eyes to be closed, lips tucked into her mouth as she settled against Brittany's chest. And despite it all, Brittany almost felt content.

Because this was where they both belonged, crashing into each other while the world collapsed around them.

* * *

There was a form of happiness that stirred through her body at watching Santana curl up against her body, lips forming the breaths that she released in sleep. A form of foolish content rippled in her chest, until she pressed her hands to meet Santana's palms and remembered the wounds that were still there, still painted with dried blood. She shifted to give a little of her warmth to Santana's cold body, letting her chin rest over Santana's head. She felt Santana breathe against her chest, tiny snores coming from her body as she settled herself beneath Brittany's chin. She still hadn't received a complete explanation as to why Santana had weakened in her arms, draping her body around Brittany's. But surrounded by one another, with Santana's arm wrapped around her waist, fingers trailing subconscious across her spine, there was not a thing in the world that could interrupt them.

She left another warm kiss on Santana's cheek, just above the splattered bruise on her jaw, and let out a slight laugh.

Santana had twisted her entire world, forced her to question each and every thing that had been so secure before and yet, Brittany did nothing to calm the coil in her stomach that came with the warmth of Santana asleep, entangled in her arms.

The tangled heap of hair beneath her chin tickled her jaw, just as the breaths transferred to her skin felt strange and unexplored. She lifted Santana's hand to her lips and pressed them against the cuts there, washing over them with kisses.

"I've got you."


	13. Chapter 13

******A/N: A little late with this update, forgive me, but I have one exam left next week, so I have time to focus completely on the story! Enjoy Chapter 13!**

* * *

Her nose wrinkled as she woke. Her fingers relaxed from their clenched position and her throat gave out a quiet groan. It wasn't until she lifted her chin a little that she realised she was tightly tangled into something. Something with a steady pulse through its wrist that Santana felt against her spine as she woke. She raised her head only for it to collide with the base of a jaw above her. Santana pulled backwards, finding both the hands that were pressed so delicately to her back and the eyelids that were fluttered close.

Brittany was wrapped around her, their bodies interlaced, with her chin grazing the top of Santana's head. She didn't remember falling asleep in the unfamiliar, impossible warmth of Brittany, but nor did she remember the welts she had acquired on her hands. She was nestled closely into Brittany's chest, scooped up into her body as though she had no intention of even attempting to move. They were laced around one another, Brittany's jaw meeting Santana's crown and fingers touching the very end of her spine.

"You're awake." She started a little at the soft voice that originated above her.

"Apparently so." Santana answered, voice a little straggled from sleep. "You stayed."

"Clearly." A smile played slightly on Brittany's lips. "Do you want to keep telling me?" A smarting ache pierced Santana's throat at the thought of her father. She shook her head against the warm safety of Brittany's chest, hardly resisting the arms that tightened around the small of her back.

"Then, tell me something else."

"What?" Santana asked.

"Tell me something else. Tell me a story." Brittany said.

"A story?" Santana paused for a moment to summon a memory to the front of her mind to oblige to Brittany's request. "What if it isn't a happy one?"

"It's still a story."

"I was twelve when I left Waisely. Or, rather, when they kicked me out. I didn't have much of a send-off, you see. They gave me a day to pack my things completely and that was it. I was gone." Brittany heard the harsh clink of metal as Santana's tongue piercing met her teeth momentarily, a noise that indicated the grinding of her teeth.

"Gone?"

"Excluded." She said.

"And you didn't do anything? About being excluded?" Brittany mumbled into her hair, lips meeting the top of Santana's forehead.

"Of course I did. Did you think I would leave so silently?" Santana said, a smirk securing itself on her lips. "I destroyed my dormitory, in short."

"Then?"

"By then, I was gone." Santana said, words mumbled against Brittany's chest.

"So, you don't know what they did about it?"

"Not the faintest idea. I'd like to see how they scrubbed spray paint from their walls."

"Spray paint?" Brittany chuckled softly.

"Did you expect me to use markers instead?" Santana buried her face further into Brittany's chest, safe in the arms held in place around her. "How long was I asleep?"

"Long enough." Brittany said.

"I was anticipating a numerical answer."

"A few hours." Brittany answered, lips still held against Santana's forehead.

"Why did you stay?" She asked, words gradually becoming more serious than before.

"Because as it turns out, you're a little more tolerable when you're like this, you know?"

"Tolerable?" Santana laughed quietly, watching while Brittany brought one arm away from her back and tangled their fingers together.

"When you don't act like you have something to prove."

"I don't act like-" But she was stopped by Brittany dipping her head down a little until her lips could touch the edge of her nose.

Simple.

That was the only description she could find for the motion. There was nothing beyond the chaste kiss placed on her nose than contentment. It was only the distinctive sound of the door edging open that woke them from their odd sense of peace.

Santana jerked backwards until she was out of Brittany's arms and on her feet, swallowing a thick gulp as her reflex kicked in instantaneously. Brittany, too, leapt upwards in attempt to put as much distance between them as was possible.

"Santana, are you-" Maribel temporarily paused as her eyes took notice of the dry blood that splattered Santana's hands. "What happened?" She asked, taking only a moment to let her eyes flicker to Brittany, observing her quickly before turning her attention back to Santana, who was answering her with a shrug.

"Papi turned up." For a second, Brittany was sure she'd seen a flicker of hope register in the woman's eyes, along with the puzzlement and intrigue that formed there.

"And?"

"And this." Santana opened her palms, as if to offer out her wounded hands.

"Why?"

"Because daddy seemed to believe all was forgiven." She said. Her mother moved towards her to examine her palms, but Santana flinched and took two small, silent steps backwards. "Please don't." Her mother only took in a short breath through her nose before deciding against saying anymore to her daughter. Enough had been done that day. She turned, once again silently observing Brittany, and went back through the door she had arrived in, leaving the house all but empty.

Brittany waited to hear the contact of the door against the hinges to look at Santana. And in looking at her, she realised something that she hadn't before. Santana's entire body was unravelling. She was tearing apart, like the few strings that held her together had finally been cut, and it was just a matter of time until her strings loosened altogether. She was no stronger than the weak thoughts that kept her from falling apart, from breaking completely. Brittany watched her, the lost focus of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the wounds that surrounded her knuckles.

Santana was tired.

"Santana-"

"Do you want to go? With me, I mean. Somewhere." Santana asked, eyes regaining their missing focus and fixing on Brittany.

"Yes." Brittany nodded, while Santana turned to leave through the hallway. Brittany heard her footsteps press against tiles before she heard the rush of water through a tap. She followed the steps Santana had made into the kitchen and found her with her hands pressed beneath the tap, water mixing with blood to wash the stains from her hands. Brittany walked towards her, footsteps as silent as she could will them to be, and slipped her hands around Santana's waist, chin resting on her shoulder. She felt Santana freeze for a moment at the notion of the arms around her, of the jaw against her shoulder. But she continued to her nurse under the water, accepting the quiet kiss to her shoulder, bared by the lack of sleeves on her vest.

"I'm sorry." Brittany said, lips stilled against Santana's shoulder.

"What for?"

"Letting her see us."

"She didn't see anything." Santana replied, a growl rapidly growing in her voice. "And it's not your problem." Brittany sighed into the delicate skin of her shoulder. In the space of hardly a few minutes, Santana's walls had returned, completely rebuilt and stronger than before.

"Santana, don't." She pleaded, eyes closed as she thought aloud. But Santana had already swiftly moved away from the arms around her waist, stepping through into the hallway.

"Let's go."

* * *

"Do you miss him?" The question came unexpected, close to a stammer. It was something of an attempt for Santana to return to her, to the way she had acted when she'd woken. Santana toyed with the stretched lace of her shoes, twisting it around her thumbs until the skin was red with pressure.

"At first. But then, I realised the word 'asshole' wasn't enough to be applied to him, and I stopped missing him."

"Just like that?" Brittany asked, watching the thin lace twist around Santana's thumbs.

"Just like that." She said. They sat some distance from one another, planted firmly on the grass that coated the field, darkness forming in the skies. "Your turn."

"What?"

"It's your turn to tell me something." Santana said.

"Something? Like what?"

"Something I don't know. Something you've never told me before." Santana suggested, fingers releasing the lace tied around her thumbs. Brittany chewed her lip for a moment, considering the array of memories in her head, before facing Santana again, mouth open to prepare her words.

"I wasn't always one of these." Even in the growing darkness, Santana could see the pull of Brittany's hand on her uniform. "I was worse. I met Kurt on my first day and he wheedled me into auditioning for Glee club. Unfortunately for us, we got in. As a result, my third day began with an iced slushy to my face courtesy of Karofsky and Azimio."

"I assume the temperature was below your liking." Santana smirked, though Brittany ignored her and continued the memory.

"After that, I wasn't going to allow it to happen again. I met Quinn in Glee club, asked her what I would have to do to become a cheerleader, and then Kurt and I were handed Cheerios uniforms a week later and not one of them touched us afterwards."

"So, this wasn't always as precious to you as it is now." Santana remarked, fingers gripping the pleats of her skirt. "Doesn't it get a little tiring?"

"What do you mean?"

"Being one of them so that _they_ can't touch you." Santana said, the hand formerly at the pleats of Brittany's skirt now tracing the hem.

"It's no different to what you do."

"What I do?"

"Being this so that _he _can't touch you." Brittany whispered, patient in waiting for Santana to react with fury. But it never came. The only thing Santana did was lean forwards and press their noses together, lips grazing in the lightest motion possible. She waited a moment to let hand rest on the thin hem of Brittany's skirt, before pressing their lips together. Brittany obliged to the kiss Santana caught her in, pressing her lips against Santana's without so much as a thought, with a need alike to desperation behind the kiss. Brittany's hands slid to Santana's waist, fingers curling into her hips, and her pulse quickened at the intensity of Santana's lips against hers. A feverish need was slipping into Brittany's system, making its way into her bloodstream, until Santana was breaking apart, pulling away while a small smile perched on her lips.

"You need to go home, don't you?" She asked gently, lips barely in contact with Brittany's jaw.

"I don't want to."

"But you have to, don't you?" Brittany nodded slightly, hands tightening at Santana's hips. They both stood to their feet and walked with one another in step back towards Santana's car. She unlocked the doors of the car and secured her hands on the steering wheel, before driving with little focus on Brittany. Following the directions Brittany gave her, she pulled up outside her house, the street empty with the exception of a few dim streetlights and the occasional howl of a dog from beyond one of the many fences. Santana looked over at Brittany, the light offered by the streetlights falling on her hair, illuminating one half of her face, the half that was pressed to the window.

Santana was sure there was nothing more beautiful in the world in that moment.

She leant over and caught Brittany's cheek against her lips. With the warm skin of Brittany's cheek against her mouth, Santana felt her mind and stomach simultaneously burst with something she was inexperienced to.

Something entirely unexplored.

The idea of thoughts she had not yet considered cementing in her mind, along with the warmth on her lips, Santana allowed a single whisper to leave and hang in the air.

"Goodnight."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry for the late update, I've been studying for my exams and my science coursework. But here you go, an extra long chapter for now! Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

* * *

Brittany collected her books from her locker as she always did in the early quarter of the morning. The feeling of Santana's fingers interlaced with hers was still embedded into her mind, ingrained in her head. She closed the door of her locker before dropping her books into her bag and swinging it over her shoulder. She walked through the door to her Physics class and, letting her bag fall from her hands to the floor, slid into her usual seat.

"You look happier than you normally do." Brittany froze at the words. The voice that came from next to her was not that of Quinn's, as she had anticipated, but instead a warm voice, one that she could not mistake for any other.

"What did you say?" Brittany asked, although the words were already arranging themselves a place to remain, to burn, in her mind.

"I said that you looked happier. Happier than you normally look." Santana said, leaning backwards on the thick, plastic back of her chair.

"And how do I normally look?"

"Tired. Like you're tired of it all." Santana answered softly, placing her hand on the back of Brittany's chair. "Not today, though."

"Move." The irritated voice of Quinn joined them, halting the tint of gentleness in Santana's words, agitated by Santana's presence.

"Don't forget your manners, Fabray."

"Not this morning, Santana." Quinn grumbled.

"Why? Morning sickness returned, has it?" Santana jibed.

"Oh, Santana. Isn't there something else you could be doing?"

"Unfortunately, Fabray, I'm currently free to do exactly what I like."

"Then, by all means, go ahead and do whatever it is you like. Just not near us." Quinn snapped, gesturing between her and Brittany, who was shifting around in the sudden discomfort of the chair.

"But how can I possible do what I like when I'm away from-"

"Goodbye, Lopez." Quinn warned, though her words had little effect on Santana's stubbornness. She glanced once at Brittany, expression unchanged from the one she'd worn with Quinn, before standing from the seat she'd taken beside her and moving towards Quinn.

"Well, Fabray. It's been fleeting but wonderful, as always. I suppose I'll see you at Noah's." She hardly risked a second look at Brittany, which caused Quinn to raise one questioning brow, before she was on the other side of the room, talking animatedly to Puck.

"What did she mean about seeing you at Puck's?" Brittany looked up, addressing Quinn for the first time since she'd joined her.

"Puckerman is having a party this weekend and, sadly, the entire Senior year is invited." Quinn sighed, scribbling words down on the white pages in front of a significant lack of interest in them.

"Are you going?"

"It's Puckerman. It's an excuse for him to find some poor Junior and get her horrifically drunk on wine coolers." Quinn dismissed, tossing her head to one side while speaking.

"So, you're not going to go?"

"I can't say I was planning on it. Why? Are you?" Quinn's tone rapidly dropped to a sceptical one, as opposed to one of irritation.

"I've never been to a party at Puckerman's before." Brittany mused, thoughts only with Santana. To Santana's body crumpling in her arms, weak in her hands, fragile in her fingers.

"And you'd like to?"

"Why not? Why shouldn't I?" Brittany responded, the patronisation in Quinn's tone becoming increasingly unbearable.

"Because you're forgetting what fraternising with Puckerman and _her _does to your reputation, Brittany." Quinn snapped as a reminder.

"And for one night, what if I forgot about it? What if I forgot about it all and just let _go_?"

"Are you insane? We live in Lima, Brittany. We can't afford to have thoughts like those." She hissed, teeth bared as she spoke in a furious whisper.

With an aggressive burn in her stomach, Brittany realised that Quinn was right. That they did live in Lima, in a place that was unlikely to accept anything out of the ordinary, anything that didn't fall exactly into place with its quiet, simple routine.

So, she swallowed the words that were escalating in her throat and bit her tongue until she tasted the coppery twang of blood in her mouth, just as she was expected to.

"You're right."

* * *

Quinn's words had reminded her of the empty reality that they lived in, of the inevitable future that awaited her. They left a dull ache in her stomach, twisting around her chest until she felt close to breathless. There was a tiny sliver of her that was laced with doubt, that almost believed Santana's words, words of a world where none of the things both she and Quinn so heavily relied on existed anymore. It was only the parts that served as a constant reminder of all that Quinn had said that stopped her from touching the place that Santana had created for her.

The place that Santana had painted for her.

But they hardly prevented her from finding Santana perched on the bleachers at the edge of the fields, back splayed onto two of their metal benches, heat soaking her bare arms. Sensing the presence beside her, Santana opened her eyes for them to meet the swirls of colours that patterned the sky, as if they had been painted onto the formerly blank canvas of the skies with the flick of a thin paintbrush.

"I want to ask you something." Brittany said, suddenly. Santana bobbed her head a little to give her permission, her hands resting on the edges of the bleacher benches. "How did you and Puck become friends?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You're giving me a question, not an answer." Brittany stated. Santana smiled slightly and pressed her palm to her ear for a moment.

"Puck and I found common ground with each other. We both had unbearable disappointments for fathers and with that, we came together. I first saw him a week after I moved here. He was trying to, unsuccessfully, break into the school's collection of personal files and I was there because I didn't want to go home just yet. Odd thing was, he didn't do anything when he saw him watching him. He just gave me a look and said: 'Well, are you going to help me or not?' I decided the only thing to do was to help him. And I did. After that, Noah and I made quite the pair." She watched while Brittany perched beside her on the bench, blue orbs wide against the fractured light dancing on her cheeks. "Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity." She shrugged.

"You're a terrible liar, Brittany. Have you always been this awful?" Brittany sighed heavily and pressed her slick palms together.

"I wanted to know you. _Want _to know you."

"Don't you know enough already?" Santana asked.

_Not nearly enough. _Was the answer that circulated in her mind, the answer that she didn't dare to say aloud.

"No." She mumbled. She considered slipping her fingers into Santana's palm for a moment, but they both in view of those who sat clumped together on the field, and so she kept her fingers placed securely in her own palms.

"Looks like they're waiting for you." Santana said, pointing over to the increasing crowd of cheerleaders that were rapidly appearing on the field. "And I have to go. But I think I'm leaving you in capable hands." Santana smirked, standing from the bleachers, which had grown unbearably warm since she'd been resting on them, before walking away, leaving Brittany alone in her painted world.

* * *

His house was hardly as she'd expected it to be as she pressed her hand to the wooden door. The shattered remains of glass bottles already littered the thin floorboards of the hallway, mixing with transparent puddles of liquor. Puck welcomed her with a surprised grin and an arm looping sloppily around her shoulder.

"I can hardly say I was expecting you to come." He slurred, words carrying sharp tracing of alcohol.

"I wouldn't flatter yourself just yet. I'm not here for _you_." Puck drew back the arm that was locked messily around her and put his hand to his heart, miming a disappointed grimace.

"An arrow through the heart." He claimed, one finger circling the left side of his chest. Brittany scoffed at him and walked through, quickly losing herself in the extended sea of people. She manoeuvred herself through the tiny gaps between bodies, until she was pushing into the longue and fearing claustrophobia from the swarm around her. It was only when the breath curled into her ear that the sweat drained from her skin.

"You haven't been here before, have you?" She span to meet the voice, and discovered Santana's slight smirk upon her. It hadn't been for the evident slur in her tone, Brittany wouldn't have considered that she was drunk in even the slightest form.

"Not quite." She said, her hearing limited from the endless voices around them.

"I don't think Noah was anticipating you to arrive." Santana replied, voice unexpectedly sharp. Her eyes were unstable, clouded by a haze of mist, and attempting to focus on Brittany.

"No, I don't think he was. How long have you been drinking?" Santana smiled cruelly, curling her lithe fingers around the bottle attached to her right hand.

"Not long enough." Santana answered with a taunting smile, only a few seconds before she lost complete control of her balance and stumbled forwards, crashing into Brittany unintentionally. She chuckled quietly into her shoulder, chin meeting Brittany's thin, familiar shoulder. She was close to peaceful, for a strange moment, until the alcohol began to ripple and burst through her veins, causing her to curl, settling further, into Brittany's body.

"I'm taking you home."

"Why? Brittany? Brittany! Why? Why are you taking me home? You can't take me home. Not now. Not yet." The intensity of the alcohol swimming through and poisoning her blood was clear then, growing stronger within seconds.

"Because you're not in any state to stay here." Brittany told her, pushing Santana backwards from her as rapidly as possible, as inquisitive pairs of eyes began to fall upon them.

"Don't take me home. I can't go home. Not yet." Santana pleaded, voice bordering on desperation. She tilted her head to look at Brittany, her dark pupils dilated and wide with pleas.

"Why not?" Brittany asked with a whisper. She studied Santana, examining the golden flecks that sat in her eyes, before she let out a sentence that she could hardly manage to string together. "She'll hit you again, won't she?" Santana's eyelids sprang open at this, widening until the surprise was clear in her eyes.

"No. But she'll be angry. She'll be angry and I can't- I won't- have anywhere to go. I won't have anywhere to go tonight." Brittany shifted her view slightly to observe Santana, noting the pleas in both the slight strangle of her voice and the clutch of her hands against her forearms. In seeing these pleas leave Santana through a quietened voice, Brittany began to understand something.

A weakness was infecting Santana.

"I'll take you to my home."

Exiting the car with the assistance of a warm, open hand, something occurred to Santana. She'd never been to Brittany's house before. She'd never seen the glass windows of the house, the bricks that steadied it, nor the thick doormat laid out underneath her unstable feet. She heard Brittany open the door and felt her pull her through into the house, guiding her upstairs until they entered through another door.

"Come here." Brittany said in a quiet manner, extending her palm for Santana to accept. She felt the fingers slide with her own, guiding Santana to the edge of her bed. "Stay here. Stay here, with me. For tonight." Brittany said, fearing the response she would receive. She wanted to protect Santana, to keep her from all that made her the way she was.

"Brittany, I want to sleep. I want to fall asleep." Santana admitted, moving downwards towards the sheets until her cheek fell against the pillow, landing in the warmth. She felt a hand tangle into her hair, stroking through the matted strands gently. She raised her hand to press against Brittany's chin in response, but Brittany caught it against her lips and pressed a kiss to it. "Brittany? Will you- will you fall asleep with me?" She asked, the effects of liquor slipping into the words, forcing her to speak with almost a stutter.

"I will." Brittany nodded gently before she climbed onto the bed, nestling into Santana with caution. She wrapped one arm around Santana's waist and used the other to allow her fingers to trace circles onto Santana's back. Her chin was resting on Santana's shoulder blade, held in place as she closed her eyes and sank into the position they had somehow fallen into. Brittany thought she could feel Santana struggling slightly against her body, as if she was trying to refrain from lashing out while her eyes closed and her legs seized, knees curling up to rest just beneath her chin.

Brittany merely hoped that the arms that held Santana tightly to her chest were sufficient enough to take Santana to some place that held only peace for the two of them.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I don't think I have much to say for this one, except another thank you for the reviews. I really am grateful for them and they inspire me to keep writing, so thank you so much. I hope you enjoy Chapter 15!**

* * *

She woke with her hand clasped to another. Fingers wound around her own, delivering warmth to her palm. She pinched her lips together, letting her teeth fall onto her bottom lip as to prevent herself from speaking, from questioning the reason that Santana had seemed to accept her arms. Brittany swore that she was offering some form of safety to Santana with only their hands joined together. She tilted her jaw so that she could bring their clasped, tightened hands upwards, until they were both resting against Santana's stomach. She left a chaste kiss on Santana's cheek, lips parting into a smile against her skin. Brittany hardly understood why she was content to watch Santana settle in her arms, curl up desperately in her sheets, but in that moment, she wondered if she'd ever feel peace like the one that spread throughout her body.

Dull light seeped through the gaps of the thin curtains, past the window sill, slipping through to splash the walls. As the circles of dim light cracked through the window, Brittany began to notice the girl that was waking in her arms. Then, she began to notice the way that Santana clung tightly to her, as if there wasn't enough of her to hold on to.

"Where am I?" She asked in a muffled groan, awaking to light breaking on unfamiliar walls, ones that were painted a delicate shade of white.

"I brought you here last night." Brittany provided, features softening a little as Santana shifted to lock their eyes, ones that were glazed with sleep and ones that were as brightened as the light hitting the tangle of sheets.

"Your house." She said, pulling the sheets up to tuck just beneath their chins.

"That's right. My house." Brittany clarified. Santana took a moment to study the room she had fallen soundlessly asleep in. She noticed the Cheerios uniform that was folded immaculately in a corner of the room, to avoid any creases as was required, and her eyes flitted to observe the photos that were contained in thin, silver frames.

Reluctantly, she lifted herself from Brittany's arms to find a better view of the room, to uncurl herself from the sheets she had grown accustomed to through the night.

"It's morning." Brittany said, watching the early rays of the sun tangle up around Santana's face. _She's right_, Santana thought. It was a Saturday morning, defined by the sun creeping over the brick rooftops of houses lined the streets. "Do you want to go downstairs?" Brittany asked, ignoring the thickening beat through her chest that ached painfully for them to wrap in the arms of one another again, for one to find their peace of mind in the other. Santana nodded, and Brittany noticed that she was still wearing the same clothes as last night, the ones she had fallen asleep in. When _they_ had fallen asleep. She stood from the bed and began to dig through a pile of clothes until she found a crumpled shirt that would seem to fit Santana's small frame.

"Here." She said, tossing the fabric into Santana's hands before turning her back. "You can get changed here."

"I'm not embarrassed." Santana said, stretching the shirt between her hands. But Brittany didn't give her an answer and so, she pulled the shirt she was already wearing over head and replaced it with the one Brittany had thrown towards her.

Though her back was turned on Santana, her eyes boring into the wall directly ahead of her, Brittany still felt the intensity of the burns blazing her skin. She discarded the breaths that were cutting through her throat to stop herself from turning around, and waited patiently for Santana to join her.

"Ready?" Brittany questioned, stomach and chest simultaneously swelling at the sight of Santana stood by her side.

"Ready."

* * *

Santana didn't remember the last time someone made breakfast for her. Albeit Brittany had only managed to hand her an empty bowl that was soon filled with individual hoops of cereal as they clattered against the bowl, it was still the first time in a long while that someone had done something as simple, as trivial, as this for her. She picked up the spoon that accompanied the bowl and jammed it into the cereals, scooping up a large spoonful of milk along with it before burying it into her mouth while Brittany watched the motion with an amused smirk.

"What?" Santana asked indignantly, unaware of the faint trail of milk and the lone piece of cereal that trickled down her chin.

"Nothing." Brittany leant in and pressed her mouth to the spot where the milk had spilled from her lips, lapping up the remainder of the cereal that had fallen along with the milk with her tongue. Santana's still hands initially froze, and then dampened with thick sweat, because God, this felt _normal. _

This was the unadorned flood of warmth rushing through her own, imperfect veins.

This was the fractured light breaking on to every darkened thought in her mind.

This was the idea, the promise, of hope that replaced the hollowness that resided in her lungs.

And it managed to strike a terrible fear inside of her.

"Where are your parents?" She asked, doing all that she could to stop her fear from becoming visible.

"Asleep." Santana swallowed another spoonful of cereal and winced as the silver metal of the spoon came into contact with the piercing sitting on her tongue, creating an awful clang, a horrible clack through her mouth.

"Is it all right if I ask why you brought me here last night?" The flicker of something colouring Brittany's face abruptly appeared on her cheeks.

"You weren't in the right state to stay there. I wanted to take to you to your house but you asked me not to." Santana flinched intensely at this memory, the thought of pleading with Brittany, of _begging _Brittany, not to take her back to her house, back to the place in which she _lived. _"You said she'd be angry. Your mother."

"She wouldn't be angry. You'd have to give a fuck about someone to actually feel emotion for them. She's lacking in that for one thing."

Her strings, the ones holding her up, were loosening further.

"So, I brought you here."

"Why?" Santana said, a puzzled tone replacing her throaty voice.

"I wanted you to be somewhere safe." Brittany admitted, both voice and expression unreadable except for the trace of a stammer hidden within the whisper. She wanted Santana safe, wanted only the mirror of safety and normality for her.

Santana brought her lips to the spoon again, swallowing the small mountain of cereal that had piled there, before balling her hands up by her thighs, another effortless attempt to swallow all that was becoming a threat, the fear of this normality, the disbelief of the things Brittany was offering her, the joy that looped around her stomach.

"I...thank you. Thank you." Once the words were out, she felt the first crack of thunder roar inside of her. She knew exactly what happened to anyone who even tried to help her, she knew exactly how far someone got before they realised that she wasn't worth any it, that she would only destroy everything in her hands.

But, for now, it felt good, near wonderful, to have someone who was at least going to try.

Santana looked up and found Brittany's cyan eyes directed downwards, on the plate that held her own breakfast in front of her, the eyes that saw only everything Santana could be, and not everything she was. With an ache that was almost joyous firmly inside of her, Santana realised that everything about _this _was different, was new, and was wonderful. Since her father left, she had decided that happiness was not something she would experience again. That it was something she wouldn't grow to learn again, that it had been wiped from her life.

Only the aspect of it that puzzled her, that unsettled her the most, was that she _wanted _this. This hazy form of happiness.

"You didn't tell us you were bringing a friend over." The voice drifted from the doorway, surprised and inquisitive, but spoken in a soft tone.

"Dad!" Brittany exclaimed, while Santana twisted to see the figure that was stood in the doorway of the kitchen. He was of medium height, with sandy, thinning hair, and warm, cerulean eyes that matched those of his daughter's almost exactly. His arms, concealed by his sleeves, were folded firmly across his chest but the corners of his mouth were already curling upwards, forming a small, warm smile.

"Good morning, kiddo. Are you going to introduce me?" He asked, laughter lacing his tone. Brittany nodded, a somewhat flustered expression fleeting across her face, and stood up, leaving Santana to watch quietly, through veiled eyes.

"This is Santana." An odd type of softness grazed Brittany's voice as she rasped the name.

"Santana, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm James." He told her, and Santana could find no end to bring to the envious coil that struck her stomach.

Brittany had a father, she had a father that cared for her, and Santana had only the tiny, splintered remains of the man that was supposed to love her unconditionally, but instead left her to collect the broken fragments of her mother and piece them back together.

"Morning." Santana answered, watching while James smiled in reply, gesturing that there were no further words that needed to be exchanged between them.

"What are you doing awake?" Brittany asked.

"Your mother wants coffee and you know exactly what happens if she doesn't get it." James teased, walking further into the kitchen and towards the kettle that was placed on the grey countertop. He turned quickly to Santana, whose body was still twisted halfway around the chair, and placed the kettle under the tap as the water began to run smoothly, tapping out a rhythmic beat with its drips. "Has she fed you yet, Santana?" He laughed. Santana lifted her spoon to her lips and ignored the string of envy that perched uncomfortably on her stomach, desperate to burst through to her mouth.

"Of course. She's been the epitome of the perfect host." She said, questioning soundlessly where the words had risen from.

"I'm glad. Now, did she serve you breakfast properly or would you like me to make you some?"

"Dad! I hardly left her to make it herself!" Brittany protested, though she had already let out a spluttered chuckle.

"No thanks. I have to go soon." It was becoming something far more than she was equipped to handle. The sight of Brittany with her father, laughing, talking, was a stark contrast with that of her own. While Brittany had the simple ability to just to talk to her father, Santana only had the option to screech terrible, destructive words at him. Words of hatred and words of the intensity of the pain he had left Santana's mother to cope, to fumble, with.

"You'll let me know in future if Brittany leaves you to fend for yourself again, won't you?" James smiled, beam identical to the one that had formed on Brittany's face when she'd discovered Santana curled into her arms during the light that crept in that same morning. "I'll make something for you and Thomas, shall I?" James said, gesturing to the little boy that was lingering in the doorway. Santana caught a flash of unruly, untamed, curls as he raced past her and bounded straight into the open arms of Brittany. She lifted the laughing, squealing, child upwards until he could sit comfortably on her shoulders, tiny legs swinging on either side of her head. He wore a small white shirt with the words 'Captain America' embedded into the chest, the chest that he had puffed out as he dug his fingers into Brittany's hair to remain seated upright on her shoulders.

"Brittany! Brittany! You're awake!" He cried, the grin spreading his lips apart incomparable to any other.

"Thomas! Thomas! I'm awake!" She mimicked, causing Thomas to vibrate with tiny bouts of laughter. "Thomas, say hello." His jade eyes grew wider as they settled on Santana, and his smile was replaced with a look of bewilderment and excitement.

"Hello." He said, voice whispery and as small as his body. "I'm Thomas!" He announced, in a louder voice this time.

"So I heard. And I'm Santana." She said, her lips creating a smile as the eyes of the boy forged even more of the light that already settled in them at her reply.

"Do you like my shirt, San-tana?" He separated her name into two syllables, struggling to pronounce even that.

"Yes, I do! But now I don't know whether to call you Thomas or Captain America."

"Both!" Thomas decided finally, excitedly.

"Captain Thomas it is, then." She said, watching the orbs of the boy widen further at the name she had given him.

"Did you hear that, Brittany?" He asked his sister in a desperately joyful voice.

"I heard, Thomas." Brittany confirmed, as the boy clung onto her and wrapped his tiny arms around her neck.

Watching the boy curl his hands around her, holding on for fear of falling if he didn't, Santana felt something twine around her chest.

Brittany had a family. She had a family that _needed _her. How could Santana be so cruel as to take that from her by bringing Brittany into her world? She couldn't. She'd had her own family ripped apart, each thread torn, how could let the same thing happen to Brittany?

"I have to go now." She said abruptly. James sent a smile in her direction before turning back to the breakfast he was beginning to conjure.

"See you soon, Santana."

"Yeah, you'll come back, won't you? You'll come back, San-tana?" The voice left the lips of Thomas as he tugged at the sleeves of Brittany's shirt, his green irises misting with worry.

"Of course I will!" She promised quietly, falsely, before walking out of the kitchen and towards the hallway.

She reached the front door and felt a hand tug on her wrist, preventing her from leaving.

"I came to ask the same question as Thomas." Brittany said. Santana felt that terrible twinge of her stomach again, this time twisting it in opposite directions without permission. She looked to Brittany, eyes meeting momentarily, and understood what she had not before.

This wasn't her family. This wasn't her life to destroy, to toy with. This was someone else's life, someone else's reality.

Someone else's _happiness. _

"I'll always come back." Santana let out, hardly able to look down at the hand curled around her wrist. She felt Brittany lean in and kiss her cheek, but the thoughts that had gathered were far too powerful for her to escape. She shrugged the hand free from her wrist and walked out of the house, with a voice that repeated the thing that she already knew over and over again until she felt sick with the thought.

This was not hers.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I'm sorry for such a late update, I'm surprised it took me so long to write this chapter, but here it is! I hope you enjoy it and another thank you for all the wonderful responses to this story.**

* * *

Thomas leapt onto her back with such an almighty force, she initially began to topple, before she quickly steadied herself as the boy scaled upwards to swing his ankles around her waist, loop his arms around her neck to gain a stable grip. Though his small weight hardly had an effect on her, she still struggled slightly to secure him on to the upper half of her back. Thomas continued to clamber over her frame until his tangled, loosened curls twisted and began to tickle her cheek lightly.

"Brittany?" Thomas began, wrapping his tiny arms around her.

"Thomas?" The boy dipped his chin to rest on Brittany's shoulders, his knees knocking together and his hands almost losing their grip as she stood further upright, taking him with her.

"Is she coming back?" Thomas asked inquisitively, perching on her frame. After he'd heard the quiet, swift closing of the door, he'd wandered into the hallway, and in seeing his sister resting her head against the door itself, he climbed onto her back with such little effort and brought his tousled curls to her cheek, to make her smile, even if it only lasted for a little while.

"I don't know. I hope so, little one. Do you?" Thomas scrunched his face tightly, his brow furrowing almost comically and his nostrils beginning to flare, before he answered her.

"Yes. I hope so."

* * *

She held the frame firmly in her hands, pressing her fingers powerfully enough to fracture the glass that held the photograph in place. The glass contained a picture of her and her parents, taken before, ironically enough, _she_ was taken from her father. Each of them wore a wide beam, in a world that was entirely different to the one Santana had known for so long. She watched her own movements from some unknown place inside of her, watching as she placed the photograph back into the depths of her drawer where no one, including herself, could find it.

What was wrong with her? She'd woken up in warmth that morning, in a warmth that consumed her, washing over her until there was nothing but the warmth alone. Yet she was intent on finding the cold that was as pale as the morning sky during winter. Intent on finding the lack of light inside her.

And she knew exactly why.

Because Brittany was the faint light that slipped through her skin, cleansing her blood and washing through her veins. And Santana did not have the right to make Brittany see the world the way she saw it, for all its cruelty and its hideousness, its sheer hatred. The small hope that Brittany had ignited was there, residing inside her. And if Brittany viewed the world in the same way she did, the little hope that remained would be lost, would cease to exist and would eventually still. She lay on her bed, thick with the heat that her heap of sheets radiated and raised her hands above her head, to reach for the escape from herself, from her hatred, that she had always imagined. She stayed this way for a few moments longer, reaching her hands up into the air for all that she had imagined, until the door was opened from the other side.

"You really should start locking your door." Santana shifted upwards, slightly startled by the voice, and rested the curve of her back against the thick headboard.

"Maybe. Or maybe I'll get a little lucky and someone will trash the whole place." Her voice was dry, emotionless as she dropped the hands that were stretched upwards, reaching for some form of escape.

"Thomas asked if you were coming back." Brittany said, voice as meek as the steps she was taking towards Santana. "Why did you leave?" Heat seeped through the opened curtains, thickening Santana's body and spreading out into every corner of the room.

"Because...because you have a family, Brittany! You have a family and I don't." Pain wrapped and radiated around her stomach, as though it was a reaction to her own words. She chewed her lip until it felt as if flecks of her flesh were slowly peeling away. "Don't you understand? I don't do good things! I don't have a family! But you do. And I can't do that to you. I can't take you from your family."

"Why not? Why can't you do that to me?" She asked.

"What?"

"What is that's stopping you? Before, you wouldn't think twice about doing something like this to me. God, you'd have _enjoyed _it. So, why won't you?" At this, Santana climbed out of her bed, allowing the light that cracked silently through the window to hit her. Brittany's palms were pressing together near her stomach, her own fingers linking together tightly as her feet shifted unsurely on the floor.

"Because I care about you!" Santana said firmly, hands raised and poised to drag through her own hair. She allowed her eyes to close, briefly creating some form of relief, before opening them once again.

Brittany almost felt the words settle on her body, they were thick and weighing on her chest until the mixture of joy and surprise there was palpable. In some way, in the only form she could manage, Santana cared for her.

"You-"

"I like having you around. I like keeping you here, close." She said, before reaching for drawer and closing her fist around the wooden handle. Although the photograph had been placed in there so that it was away from the world and herself alike, she pulled the drawer open and reached through the piles of clothing until her hand came to touch the glass that confined the picture. She brought it out of the drawer and placed it in both of her palms, noting Brittany's tentative movements towards her, as she took a few steps until she was beside her, studying the photograph just as Santana was.

"That's him, isn't it?" Brittany let her finger glide over the smiling face of the man in the left of the photograph, while Santana nodded. She moved the hand that was tracing the outline of the protective glass around the photograph and placed it on Santana's shoulder, fingers extended to just meet her collarbone. "You won't take me from them. I know you. You won't do that." She lowered her head so that she was able to press a kiss to Santana's shoulder, resting her forehead against her neck, sinking into the warmth that drifted from her.

"But I could. If I wanted to. I could."

"You won't, Santana. I trust you." The soft sigh that left Santana's lips was followed by a singular drop of liquid. Brittany lifted her head from the comfort she had discovered buried against Santana's neck and found the tears slipping from her eyes, streaming onto her cheeks. She raised her arms from their simple position at her sides and tangled them around Santana's waist, shifting to allow Santana's weight to rest on hers as she crumpled up, cracking open right in front of her.

The tears began to stream than before, then, because she'd never heard the word 'trust' spoken to her in such a long time. She'd never been trusted, never had anyone to trust in, but there was Brittany, telling her words she'd never heard before, words she'd never allowed herself to hear. She felt the arms wrap around her, encircle her, and curled into the embrace, winding around Brittany until warm lips pressed against her forehead. The wet liquid on her cheeks grew hotter, pooling in her eyes far quicker than before at each touch of Brittany's hand against her back as it slid up to the skin on the back of her neck.

"I like having you close." Santana sighed quietly, incomparably content despite the salty liquid trickling down the cheeks that had flushed a deep crimson. Brittany combed her fingers through Santana's hair, stroking each strand gently while sighs that disguised small sobs filled the silence that had rapidly formed. She pulled the girl in her arms further against her chest, wrapping them together until she could feel the thick, rhythmic beat created by Santana's chest pound in time with her own.

There, despite the tears that were coating her shoulder, with Santana's body nestled in her arms, she felt happiness unlike any she had known before.

* * *

There came a point where the liquid slipping from her ducts came to an end, halted by the lack of a steady breath in her throat. She wrinkled her nose against Brittany's shoulder, which had been dampened by trickles of tears, and leant back, to study the owner of the arms she was cradled in. She found eyes that seemed to create a whole array of colour, spanning from a translucent, pale blue to the colour of the ocean, just as foamy and as calm as the water itself. There was also a smile decorating her lips, her jaw, her entire face. One that was not a slight smile, one that only pulled her lips upwards a little, but instead one that stretched her entire mouth outwards in a manner that caused soft laughter to erupt from Santana.

"What are you laughing at?" Brittany asked, confusion lacing her voice.

"Nothing. You. You're making me laugh." She admitted, the chuckles still exiting from her mouth.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Santana pressed herself against Brittany, curving into her side as though she could feel nothing else but them, moulded together.

"I don't have to have a reason to look at you, do I?" She asked, letting out a shaky breath, as her breathing was rattled by the sobs from earlier.

"No. But I'd like one." Brittany sighed quietly against Santana's temple, pressing a kiss there as she breathed in the scent of cinnamon that had grown so familiar to her. Though the situation was far from perfect, with Santana's voice still cracked from the cries that had racked her body and her throat almost visibly tightened, Brittany could not have felt a greater sense of peace rushing through her when wrapped up in Santana. Curled into her being, she could not have felt a greater sense of love.

Her mind snagged, catching on the word. The breath on which she paused her began to choke her. _Love._

She _loved _Santana. The thought was powerful enough to send thunder hurtling through her, igniting each and every part of her. But the hurricane rattling through her body, through her bones, only intensified at the thought that Santana might not love her back. Then, enveloped in one another, was the furthest she had removed Santana from the hatred that she wrapped herself in, the barbed wire she tied around herself. She allowed the breath that was crawling up her throat to escape and nuzzled her nose against Santana's forehead while the idea that she was in the arms of someone that could explode with hatred at any point, creating casualties that could not be repaired, charged through her. The idea that she _loved _someone with the capability to shatter as easily as the thin glass of the photograph that sat hidden in the sheets beside them was one that possessed more power than even the greatest of storms.

"Still waiting on that reason?" Santana's voice interrupted the thoughts colliding in her mind.

"Yes." She mumbled.

"You. You're a beautiful thing. And I've never seen a beautiful thing before." She said, pressing their foreheads together as she twisted to face Brittany, unfolding her legs as she twisted her hips around. Brittany swallowed the solid object that had wedged in her windpipe at her words, as she felt a twang in her chest and a jolt through her heart.

"I wish I could keep you here. With me." She said, placing her lips on the tip of Santana's nose. It was only then that she drew back and saw Santana. Finally saw her, without the walls and without the venom and without the world she locked herself so deeply inside. She saw her exactly as she was, as someone without their father, without the normality of a family life. And there, with her mahogany eyes lacking in the dark coating that often clouded them, she saw that Santana was little more than a child. A child that had lost a family in a swirl of chaos.

She stepped backwards, her arms still tangled around Santana's body, watching as a perplexed look settled on her face before she spoke.

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

They sat on the grass, propping themselves upwards on their elbows, and watched the explosion of colour in the midday sky unfold around them.

Brittany felt the fingers entwine with hers before she saw them.

"I used to love coming here. I used to like being here." Santana said, running her thumb over Brittany's palm. "I hated it after he left. I could hardly stand it. But now, it's different."

"Different?"

"With you. It makes it, this place, everything, feel calm. Calmer than it was before, at least." She lowered herself further onto the grass until the back of her neck touched the blades of grass beneath her. She positioned herself so that she was looking directly upwards, her hand still joined tightly with Brittany's, with the sun casting light on her cheeks. She hardly noticed that Brittany had lain down beside her, her head resting on her shoulder, until she felt the whisper into the skin above her collarbone.

"I'd give you everything if I could, Santana. I'd give you anything and everything." Arms wrapped around her, enfolding her in Brittany's body. With the sunlight of the afternoon glistening on their skin, giving the illumination that specks of light themselves came from their bodies, Santana felt nothing but joy settling inside her.

And, with the crippling fear from before still curling through her, she began to accept that this was where she belonged, warm in the arms of Brittany, in arms that enclosed and immersed her.

In arms that would not betray her.


End file.
